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BY BBRTRAND RU8SBLL

INTRODUCTION TO MATHEMATICAL PHILOSOPHY

THE ANALYSIS OF MIND

OUR KNOWLEDGE OF THE EXTERNAL WORLD

AN OUTLINE OP PHILOSOPHY

THE PHILOSOPHY OF LEIBNIZ

AN INQUIRY INTO MEANING AND TRUTH

POWER

IN PRAISE OF IDLENESS
THE CONQUEST OF HAPPINESS

SCEPTICAL ESSAYS

THE SCIENTIFIC OUTLOOK

MYSTICISM AND LOGIC

MARRIAGE AND MORALS

EDUCATION AND THE SOCIAL OKDLK

ON EDUCATION

FREEDOM AND ORGANIZATION, l8l4~I<M4
PRINCIPLES OF SOCIAL RECONSTRUCTION

ROADS TO FREEDOM
JUSTICE IN WAR-FIMi:

FREE THOUGHT AND OFFICIAL PROPAGANDA
THE PROBLEM OF CHINA

With Scott NcarinK

BOLSHEVISM AND THE Wt*T

With Dora Russell

THE PROSPECTS Ol- INDUSTRIAL CIVILIZATION

BERTRAND RUSSELL

HISTORY OF

WESTERN
PHILOSOPHY

and its Connection with Political

and Social Circumstances from

the Earliest Times to

the Present Dav

GEORGE ALLEN AND UNWIN LTD

FIRST PUBLISHED IN 1446
SFCOND IMPRESSION 1947

All rights resented

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\\\ UN WIN bHOJHfcHS J, » M m U

PREFACE

A FEW words of apology and explanation are called for if
this book is to escape even more severe censure than it
doubtless deserves.

Apology is due to the specialists on various schools and indi-
vidual philosophers. With the possible exception of Leibniz,
every philosopher of whom I treat is better known to some others
than to me. If, however, books covering a Wide field are to be
written at all, it is inevitable, since we are not immortal, that those
who write such books should spend less time on any one part
than can be spent by a man who concentrates on a single author
or a brief period. Some, whose scholarly austerity is unbending,
will conclude that books covering a wide field should not be
written at all, or, if written, should consist of monographs by a
multitude of authors. There is, however, something lost when
many authors co-operate. If there is any unity in the movement
of history, if there is any intimate relation between what goes
before and what comes later, it is necessary, for setting this forth,
that earlier and later periods should be synthesized in a single
mind. The student of Rousseau may have difficulty in doing
justice to his connection with the Sparta of Plato and Plutarch;
the historian of Sparta may not be prophetically conscious of
Hobbcs and Fichte and Lenin. To bring out such relations is
one of the purposes of this book, and it is a purpose which only
a wide survey can fulfil.

There are many histories of philosophy, but none of them, so
far as I know, has quite the purpose that I have set myself. Philo-
sophers are both effects and causes: effects of their social cir-
cumstances and of the politics and institutions of their time;
causes (if they are fortunate) of beliefs which mould the politics
and institutions of later ages. In most histories of philosophy,
each philosopher appears as in a vacuum; his opinions are set
forth unrelated except, at most, to those of earlier philosophers.
I have tried, on the contrary, to exhibit each philosopher, as far
as truth permits, as an outcome of his milieu, a man in whom
were crystallized and concentrated thoughts and feelings which,
in a vague ahd diffused form, were common to the community
of which he was a part.

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

This has required the insertion of certain chapters of purely
social history. No one can understand the Stoics and Epicureans
without some knowledge of the Hellenistic age, or the scholastics
without a modicum of understanding of the growth of the Church
from the fifth to 'the thirteenth centuries. I have therefore set
forth briefly those parts of the main historical outlines that seemed
to me to have had most influence on philosophical thought, and
I have done this with most fulness where the history may be
expected to be unfamiliar to some readers — for example, in regard
to the early Middle Ages. But in these historical chapters I have
rigidly excluded whatever seemed to have little or no bearing on
contemporary or subsequent philosophy.

The problem of selection, in such a book as the present, is
very difficult. Without detail, a book becomes jejune and un-
interesting; with detail, it is in danger of becoming intolerably
lengthy. I have sought a compromise, by treating only those
philosophers who seem to me to have considerable importance,
and mentioning, in connection with them, such details as, even
if not of fundamental importance, have value on account of some
iDustrative or vivifying quality.

Philosophy, from the earliest times, has been not merely an
affair of the schools, or of disputation between a handful of
learned men. It has been an integral part of the life of the com-
munity, and as such I have tried to consider it. If there is any
merit in this book, it is from this point of view that it is derived.

This book owes its existence to Dr. Albert C. Barnes, having
been originally designed and partly delivered as lectures at the
Barnes Foundation in Pennsylvania.

As in most of my work during the years since 1932, I have
been greatly assisted in research and in many other ways by my
wife, Patricia Russell.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

II
III

VII

VIII

XII

XIII

XIV

XVI

XVII

XVIII

XIX

XXI

XXII

XXIII

XXIV

XXV
XXVI

XXVII

txvm

XXIX
XXX

Introduction

BOOK ONE

ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY

Part i
The Pre-Socratics

The Rise of Greek Civilization

The Milesian School

Pythagoras

Heraclitus

Pannenides

Empedocles

Athens in Relation to Culture

Anaxagoras

The Atornists

Protagoras

Part 2

Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle
Socrates

The Influence of Sparta
The Sources of Plato's Opinions
Plato's Utopia
The Theory of Ideas
Plato's Theory of Immortality
Plato's Cosmogony
Knowledge and Perception in Plato
Aristotle's Metaphysics
Aristotle's Ethics
Aristotle's Politics
Aristotle's Logic
Aristotle's Physics
Early Greek Mathematics and Astronomy

Part 3
Ancient Philosophy after Aristotle

The Hellenistic World

Cynics and Sceptics

The Epicureans

Stoitism

The Roman Empire in Relation to Culture

Plotinua

PAGE
10

57
6?
72

77
81

84
94

i oz

129
141

'54

165

171
182

'95
207
218
226
231

241
252
263

*75
294
308

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

CHAPTER PAGE

BOOK TWO

CATHOLIC PHILOSOPHY

Introduction 322
Part i

The Fathers

I The Religious Development of the Jews 328

II Christianity During the First Four Centuries 344

III Three Doctors of the Church 354

IV St. Augustine's Philosophy and Theology 372
V The Fifth and Sixth Centuries ' 386

VI St. Benedict and Gregory the Great 395

Part 2
The Schoolmen

VII The Papacy in the Dark Apes 408

VIII John the Scot 421

IX Ecclesiastical Reform in the Eleventh Ccntuiv 428

X Mohammedan Culture and Philosophy 440

XI The Twelfth Century ' 450

XII The Thirteenth Century 4^3

XIII St. Thomas Aquinas 474

XIV Franciscan Schoolmen 48'*
XV The Eclipse of the Papacy 499

BOOK TIIRFh

MODERN PHILOSOPHY

Part i
/'Vow the Renaissance tu Hume

I General Characteristics 51 1

11 The Italian Renaissance ^i(>

III Machiavelli 525

IV Erasmus and More 533
V The Reformation and Counter-Reformation 544

VI The Rise of Science 547

VII Francis Bacon 563

VIII Hobbca's Leviathan 568

IX Descartes 580

X Spinoza 592

XI Leibniz 604

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGB

XII Philosophical Liberalism 620

XIII Locke's Theory of Knowledge 628

XIV Locke's Political Philosophy 642
XV Locke's Influence 666

XVI Berkeley 673

XVII Hume 685

Part 2
From Rousseau to the Present Day

XVIII The Romantic Movement 701

XIX Rousseau 711

XX Kant 728

XXI Currents of Thought in the Nineteenth Century 746

XXII Hegel 757

XXIII Byron 774

XXIV Schopenhauer 781
XXV Nietzsche 788

XXVI The Utilitarians 801

XXVII Karl Marx 810

XXVIII Bergson 819

XXIX William James 839

XXX JohnDewey 847

XXXI The Philosophy of Logical Analysis 857

INTRODUCTION

E I \HE conceptions of life and the world which we call

I "philosophical" are a product of two factors: one, inherited

JL religious and ethical conceptions; the other, the sort of

investigation which may be called "scientific," using this word in

its broadest sense. Individual philosophers have differed widely

in regard to the proportions in which these two factors entered

into their systems, but it is the presence of both, in some degree,

that characterizes philosophy.

"Philosophy" is a word which has been used in many ways,
some wider, some narrower. I propose to use it in a very wide
sense, which I will now try to explain.

Philosophy, as I shall understand the word, is something inter-
mediate between theology and science. Like theology, it consists
of speculations on matters as to which definite knowledge has, so
far, been unascertainable ; but like science, it appeals to human
reason rather than to authority, whether that of tradition or that
of revelation. All definite knowledge — so I should contend —
belongs to science ; all dogma as to what surpasses definite know-
ledge belongs to theology. But between theology and science there
is a No Man's Land, exposed to attack from both sides; this No
Man's Land is philosophy. Almost all the questions of most
interest to speculative minds are such as science cannot answer,
and the confident answers of theologians no longer seem so con-
vincing as they did in former centuries. Is the world divided into
mind and matter, and, if so, what is mind and what is matter? Is
mind subject to matter, or is it possessed of independent powers ?
Has the universe any unity or purpose? Is it evolving towards
some goal ? Are there really laws of nature, or do we believe in
them only because of our innate love of order ? Is man what he
seems to the astronomer, a tiny lump of impure carbon and water
impotently crawling on a small and unimportant planet ? Or is he
what he appears to Hamlet ? Is he perhaps both at once ? Is there
a way of living that is noble and another that is base, or are all
ways of living merely futile? If there is a way of living that is
noble, in what does it consist, and how shall we achieve it? Must
the good be eternal in order to deserve to be valuc'd, or is it worth
seeking even if the universe is inexorably moving toward? death ?

INTRODUCTION

Is there such a thing as wisdom, or is what seems such merely
the ultimate refinement of folly? To such questions no answer
can be found in the laboratory. Theologies have professed to give
answers, all too definite; but their very definiteness causes modern
minds to view them with suspicion. The studying of these
questions, if not the answering of them, is the business of
philosophy.

Why, then, you may ask, waste time on such insoluble problems ?
To this one may answer as a historian, or as an individual facing
the terror of cosmic loneliness.

The answer of the historian, in so far as I am capable of giving
it, will appear in the course of this work. Ever since men became
capable of free speculation, their actions, in innumerable impor-
tant respects, have depended upon their theories as to the world
and human life, as to what is good and what is evil. This is as
true in the present day as at any former time. To understand an
age or a nation, we must understand its philosophy, and to under-
stand its philosophy we must ourselves be in some degree philo-
sophers. There is here a reciprocal causation: the circumstances
of men's lives do much to determine their philosophy, but, con-
versely, their philosophy does much to determine their circum-
stances. This interaction throughout the centuries will be the
topic of the following pages.

There is also, however, a more personal answer. Science tells
us what we can know, but what we can know is little, and if we
forget how much we cannot know we become insensitive to many
things of very great importance. Theology, on the other hand,
induces a dogmatic belief that we have knowledge where in fact
we have ignorance, and by doing so generates a kind of impertinent
insolence towards the universe. Uncertainty, in the presence of
vivid hopes and fears, is painful, but must be endured if we wish
to live without the support of comforting fairy tales. It is not
good either to forget the questions that philosophy asks, or to
persuade ourselves that we have found indubitable answers to
them. To teach how to live without certainty, and yet without
being paralysed by hesitation, is perhaps the chief thing that
philosophy, in our age, can still do for those who study it.

Philosophy^ as distinct from theology, began in Greece in the
sixth century B.C. After running its course in antiquity, it was
again submerged by theology as Christianity rose and Rome fell.

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

Its second great period, from the eleventh to the fourteenth cen-
turies, was dominated by the Catholic Church, except for a few
great rebels, such as the Emperor Frederick II (1195-1250). This
period was brought to an end by the confusions that culminated
in the Reformation. The third period, from the seventeenth
century to the present day, is dominated, more than either of its
predecessors, by science; traditional religious beliefs remain
important, but are felt to need justification, and are modified
wherever science seems to make this imperative. Few of the
philosophers of this period are orthodox from a Catholic stand-
point, and the secular State is more important in their speculations
than the Church.

Social cohesion and individual liberty, like religion and science,
are in a state of conflict or uneasy compromise throughout the
whole period. In Greece, social cohesion was secured by loyalty
to the City State; even Aristotle, though in his time Alexander
was making the City State obsolete, could see no merit in any
other kind of polity. The degree to which the individual's liberty
was curtailed by his duty to the City varied widely. In Sparta he
had as little liberty as in modern Germany or Russia; in Athens,
in spite of occasional persecutions, citizens had, in the best period,
a very extraordinary freedom from restrictions imposed by the
State. Greek thought down to Aristotle is dominated by religious
and patriotic devotion to the City ; its ethical systems arc adapted
to the lives of citizens and have a large political element. When
the Greeks became subject, first to the Macedonians, and then to
the Romans, the conceptions appropriate to their days of inde-
pendence were no longer applicable. This produced, on the one
hand, a loss of vigour through the breach with tradition, and, on
the other hand, a more individual and less social ethic. The
Stoics thought of the virtuous life as a relation of the soul to
God, rather than as a relation of the citizen to the State. They
thus prepared the way for Christianity, which, like Stoicism, was
originally unpolitical, since, during its first three centuries, its
adherents were devoid of influence on government. Social cohesion,
during the six and a half centuries from Alexander to Constantine,
was secured, not by philosophy and not by ancient loyalties, but
by force, first that of armies and then that of civil administration.
Roman armies, Roman roads, Roman law, and ifoman officials
first created and then preserved a powerful centralized. State.

INTRODUCTION

Nothing was attributable to Roman philosophy, since there was
none.

During this long period, the Greek ideas inherited from the age
of freedom underwent a gradual process of transformation. Some
of the old ideas, notably those which we should regard as speci-
fically religious, gained in relative importance; others, more
rationalistic, were discarded because they no longer suited the
spirit of the age. In this way the later pagans trimmed the Greek
tradition until it became suitable for incorporation in Christian
doctrine.

Christianity popularized an important opinion, already implicit
in the teaching of the Stoics, but foreign to the general spirit of
antiquity — I mean, the opinion that a man's duty to God is more
imperative than his duty to the State.1 This opinion — that "we
ought to obey God rather than Man/' as Socrates and the Apostles
said — survived the conversion of Constantine, because the early
Christian emperors were Arians or inclined to Arianism. When
the emperors became orthodox, it fell into abeyance. In the
Byzantine Empire it remained latent, as also in the subsequent
Russian Empire, which derived its Christianity from Constan-
tinople.2 But in the West, where the Catholic emperors were
almost immediately replaced (except in parts of Gaul) by heretical
barbarian conquerors, the superiority of religious to political
allegiance survived, and to some extent still survives.

The barbarian invasion put an end, for six centuries, to the
civilization of western Europe. It lingered in Ireland until the
Danes destroyed it in the ninth century; before its extinction
there it produced one notable figure, Scotus Erigena. In the
Eastern Empire, Greek civilization, in a desiccated form, survived,
as in a museum, till the fall of Constantinople in 1453, but nothing
of importance to the world came out of Constantinople except an
artistic tradition and Justinian's Codes of Roman law.

During the period of darkness, from the end of the fifth century
to the middle of the eleventh, the western Roman world under-
went some very interesting changes. The conflict between duty to

1 This opinion was not unknown in earlier times: it is stated, for
example, in the Antigone of Sophocles. But before the Stoics those who
held it were fei%.

* That is why the modem Russian does not think that we ought to
obey dialectical materialism rather than Stalin.

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

God and duty to the State, which Christianity had introduced,
took the form of a conflict between Church and king. The eccle-
siastical jurisdiction of the Pope extended over Italy, France, and
Spain, Great Britain and Ireland, Germany, Scandinavia, and
Poland. At first, outside Italy and southern France, his control
over bishops and abbots was very slight, but from the time of
Gregory VII (late eleventh century) it became real and effective.
From that time on, the clergy, throughout western Europe,
formed a single organization directed from Rome, seeking power
intelligently and relentlessly, and usually victorious, until after the
year 1300, in their conflicts with secular rulers. The conflict
between Church and State was not only a conflict between clergy
and laity ; it was also a renewal of the conflict between the Mediter-
ranean world and the northern barbarians. The unity of the
Church echoed the unity of the Roman Empire ; its liturgy was
Latin, and its dominant men were mostly Italian, Spanish, or
southern French. Their education, when education revived, was
classical; their conceptions of law and government would have
been more intelligible to Marcus Aurelius than they were to
contemporary monarchs. The Church represented at once
continuity with the past and what was most civilized in the
present.

The secular power, on the contrary, was in the hands of kings
and barons of Teutonic descent, who endeavoured to preserve
what they could of the institutions that they had brought out of
the forests of Germany. Absolute power was alien to those institu-
tions, and so was what appeared to these vigorous conquerors as
a dull and spiritless legality. The king had to share his power
with the feudal aristocracy, but all alike expected to be allowed
occasional outbursts of passion in the form of war, murder, pillage,
or rape. Monarchs might repent, for they were sincerely pious,
and, after all, repentance was itself a form of passion. But the
Church could never produce in them the quiet regularity of good
behaviour which a'modern employer demands, and usually obtains,
of his employees. What was the use of conquering the world if
they could not drink and murder and love as the spirit moved
them? And why should they, with their armies of proud knights,
submit to the orders of bookish men, vowed to celibacy and
destitute of armed force? In spite of ecclesiastic^ disapproval,
they preserved the duel and trial by battle, and they developed

INTRODUCTION

tournaments and courtly love. Occasionally, in a fit of rage, they
would even murder eminent churchmen.

All the armed force was on the side of the kings, and yet the
Church was victorious. The Church won, partly because it had
almost a monopoly of education, partly because the kings were
perpetually at war with each other, but mainly because, with very
few exceptions, rulers and people alike profoundly believed that
the Church possessed the power of the keys. The Church could
decide whether a king should spend eternity in heaven or in hell ;
the Church could absolve subjects from the duty of allegiance,
and so stimulate rebellion. The Church, moreover, represented
order in place of anarchy, and consequently won the support of
the rising mercantile class. In Italy, especially, this last con-
sideration was decisive.

The Teutonic attempt to preserve at least a partial independence
of the Church expressed itself not only in politics, but also in
art, romance, chivalry, and war. It expressed itself very little in
the intellectual world, because education was almost wholly con-
fined to the clergy. The explicit philosophy of the Middle Ages
is not an accurate mirror of the times, but only of what was
thought by one party. Among ecclesiastics, however— especially
among the Franciscan friars — a certain number, for various
reasons, were at variance with the Pope. In Italy, moreover,
culture spread to the laity some centuries sooner than it did
north of the Alps. Frederick II, who tried to found a new religion,
represents the extreme of anti-papal culture; Thomas Aquinas,
who was born in the kingdom of Naples where Frederick II was
supreme, remains to this day the classic exponent of papal philo-
sophy. Dante, some fifty years later, achieved a synthesis, and
gave the only balanced exposition of the complete medieval world
of ideas.

After Dante, both for political and for intellectual reasons, the
medieval philosophical synthesis broke down. It had, while it
lasted, a quality of tidiness and miniature completeness; whatever
the system took account of was placed with precision with relation
to the other contents of its very finite cosmos. But the Great
Schism, die conciliar movement, and the Renaissance papacy led
up to the Reformation, which destroyed the unity of Christendom
and the scholastic theory of government that centred round the

Pope. In the Renaissance period new knowledge, both of antiquity

•

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

and of the earth's surface, made men tired of systems, which were
felt to be mental prisons. The Copernican astronomy assigned to
the earth and to man a humbler position than they had enjoyed
in the Ptolemaic theory. Pleasure in new facts took the place,
among intelligent men, of pleasure in reasoning, analysing, and
systematizing. Although in art the Renaissance is still orderly, in
thought it prefers a large and fruitful disorder. In this respect,
Montaigne is the most typical exponent of the age.

In the theory of politics, as in everything except art, there was
a collapse of order. The Middle Ages, though turbulent in prac-
tice, were dominated in thought by a passion for legality and by
a very precise theory of political power. All power is ultimately
from God ; He has delegated power to the Pope in sacred things
and to the Emperor in secular matters. But Pope and Emperor
alike lost their importance during the fifteenth century. The Pope
became merely one of the Italian princes, engaged in the incredibly
complicated and unscrupulous game of Italian power politics.
The new national monarchies in France, Spain, and England had,
in their own territories, a power with which neither Pope nor
Emperor could interfere. The national State, largely owing to
gunpowder, acquired an influence over men's thoughts and feelings
which it had not had before, and which progressively destroyed
what remained of the Roman belief in the unity of civilization.

This political disorder found expression in Machiavelli's Prince.
In the absence of any guiding principle, politics becomes a naked
struggle for power; The Prince gives shrewd advice as to how to
play this game successfully. What had happened in die great age
of Greece happened again in Renaissance Italy: traditional moral
restraints disappeared, because they were seen to be associated
with superstition; the liberation from fetters made individuals
energetic and creative, producing a rare florescence of genius ; but
the anarchy and treachery which inevitably resulted from the
decay of morals made Italians collectively impotent, and they fell,
like the Greeks, under the domination of nations less civilized
than themselves but not so destitute of social cohesion.

The result, however, was less disastrous than in the case of
Greece, because the newly powerful nations, with the exception
of Spain, showed themselves as capable of great achievement as
the Italians had been. •

From the sixteenth century onward, the history of European

INTRODUCTION

thought is dominated by the Reformation. The Reformation was
a complex many-sided movement, and owed its success to a
variety of causes. In the main, it was a revolt of the northern
nations against the renewed dominion of Rome. Religion was the
force that had subdued the North, but religion in Italy had
decayed: the papacy remained as an institution, and extracted a
huge tribute from Germany and England, but these nations,
which were still pious, could feel no reverence for the Borgias and
Medicis, who professed to save souls from purgatory in return for
cash which they squandered on luxury and immorality. National
motives, economic motives, and moral motives all combined to
strengthen the revolt against Rome. Moreover the Princes soon
perceived that, if the Church in their territories became merely
national, they would be able to dominate it, and would thus
become much more powerful at home than they had been while
sharing dominion with the Pope. For all these reasons, Luther's
theological innovations were welcomed by rulers and peoples alike
throughout the greater part of northern Europe.

The Catholic Church was derived from three sources. Its sacred
history was Jewish, its theology was Greek, its government and
canon law were, at least indirectly, Roman. The Reformation
rejected the Roman elements, softened the Greek elements, and
greatly strengthened the Judaic elements. It thus co-operated with
the nationalist forces which were undoing the work of social
cohesion which had been effected first by the Roman Empire and
then by the Roman Church. In Catholic doctrine, divine revelation
did not end with the scriptures, but continued from age to age
through the medium of the Church, to which, therefore, it was
the duty of the individual to submit his private opinions. Pro-
testants, on the contrary, rejected the Church as a vehicle of
revelation ; truth was to be sought only in the Bible, which each
man could interpret for himself. If men differed in their interpre-
tation, there was no divinely appointed authority to decide the
dispute. In practice, the State claimed the right that had formerly
belonged to the Church, but this was a usurpation. In Protestant
theory, there should be no earthly intermediary between the soul
and God.

The effects of this change were momentous. Truth was no
longer to be ascertained by consulting authority, but by inward

meditation, There was a tendency, quickly developed, towards

•

«7

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

anarchism in politics, and, in religion, towards mysticism, which
had always fitted with difficulty into the framework of Catholic
orthodoxy. There came to be not one Protestantism, but a multi-
tude of sects ; not one philosophy opposed to scholasticism, but as
many as there were philosophers ; not, as in the thirteenth century,
one Emperor opposed to the Pope, but a large number of heretical
kings. The result, in thought as in literature, was a continually
deepening subjectivism, operating at first as a wholesome liberation
from spiritual slavery, but advancing steadily towards a personal
isolation inimical to social sanity.

Modern philosophy begins with Descartes, whose fundamental
certainty is the existence of himself and his thoughts, from which
the external world is to be inferred. This was only the first stage
in a development, through Berkeley and Kant, to Fichte, for whom
everything is only an •„ rruiii..*!. :> oft!:? * so. This was insanity, and,
from this extreme, philosophy has been attempting, ever since, to
escape into the world of everyday common sense.

With subjectivism in philosophy, anarchism in politics goes
hand in hand. Already during Luther's lifetime, unwelcome and
unacknowledged disciples had developed the doctrine of Ana-
baptism, which, for a time, dominated the city of Miinster. The
Anabaptists repudiated all law, since they held that the good man
will be guided at every moment by the Holy Spirit, who cannot
be bound by formulas. From this premiss they arrive at com-
munism and sexual promiscuity ; they were therefore exterminated
after a heroic resistance. But their doctrine, in softened forms,
spread to Holland, England and America; historically, it is the
source of Quakerism. A fiercer form of anarchism, no longer con-
nected with religion, arose in the nineteenth century. In Russia,
in Spain, and to a lesser degree in Italy, it had considerable
success, and to this day it remains a bugbear of the American
immigration authorities. This modern form, though anti-religious,
has still much of the spirit of early Protestantism ; it differs mainly
in directing against secular governments the hostility that Luther
directed against popes.

Subjectivity, once let loose, could not be confined within limits
until it had run its course. In morals, the Protestant emphasis on
the individual conscience was essentially anarchic. Habit and
custom were so strong that, except in occasional outbreaks such
as that of Mtinstcr, the disciples of individualism in ethics con-

INTRODUCTION

tinued to act in a manner which was conventionally virtuous. But
this was a precarious equilibrium. The eighteenth-century cult of
"sensibility" began to break it down: an act was admired, not for
its good consequences, or for its conformity to a moral code, but
for die emotion that inspired it. Out of this attitude developed the
cult of the hero, as it is expressed by Carlyle and Nietzsche, and
the Byronic cult of violent passion of no matter what kind.

The romantic movement, in art, in literature, and in politics, is
hound up with this subjective way of judging men, not as members
of a community, but as aesthetically delightful objects of con-
templation. Tigers are more beautiful than sheep, but we prefer
them behind bars. The typical romantic removes the bars and
enjoys the magnificent leaps with which the tiger annihilates the
sheep. He exhorts men to imagine themselves tigers, and when he
succeeds the results are not wholly pleasant.

Against the more insane forms of subjectivism in modern times
there have been various reactions. First, a half-way compromise
philosophy, the doctrine of liberalism, which attempted to assign
the respective spheres of government and the individual. This
begins, in its modern form, with Locke, who is as much opposed
to "enthusiasm" — the individualism of the Anabaptists — as to
absolute authority and blind subservience to tradition. A more
thoroughgoing revolt leads to the doctrine of State worship,
which assigns to the State the position that Catholicism gave
to the Church, or even, sometimes, to God. Hobbes, Rousseau,
and Hegel represent different phases of this theory, and their
doctrines are embodied practically in Cromwell, Napoleon, and
modern Germany. Communism, in theory, is far removed from
such philosophies, but is driven, in practice, to a type of com-
munity very similar to that which results from State worship.

Throughout this long development, from 600 B.C. to the present
day, philosophers have been divided into those who wished to
tighten social bonds and those who wished to relax them. With
this difference others have been associated. The disciplinarians
have advocated some system of dogma, either old or new, and
have therefore been compelled to be, in a greater or less degree,
hostile to science, since their dogmas could not be proved empiri-
cally. They have almost invariably taught that happiness is not
the good, but that "nobility" or "heroism" is to be preferred.
'1 'hey .have had a sympathy with the irrational parts of human

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

nature, since they have felt reason to be inimical to social cohesion.
The libertarians, on the other hand, with the exception of the
extreme anarchists, have tended to be scientific, utilitarian,
rationalistic, hostile to violent passion, and enemies of all the
more profound forms of religion. This conflict existed in Greece
before the rise of what we recognize as philosophy, and is already
quite explicit in the earliest Greek thought. In changing forms,
it has persisted down to the present day, and no doubt will persist
for many ages to come.

It is clear that each party to this dispute — as to all that persist
through long periods of time — is partly right and partly wrong.
Social cohesion is a necessity, and mankind has never yet succeeded
in enforcing cohesion by merely rational arguments. Every com-
munity is exposed to two opposite dangers; ossification through
too much discipline and reverence for tradition, on the one hand;
on the other hand, dissolution, or subjection to foreign conquest,
through the growth of an individualism and personal independence
that makes co-operation impossible. In general, important civili-
zations start with a rigid and superstitious system, gradually
relaxed, and leading, at a certain stage, to a period of brilliant
genius, while the good of the old tradition remains and the evil
inherent in its dissolution has not yet developed. But as the evil
unfolds, it leads to anarchy, thence, inevitably, to a new tyranny,
producing a new synthesis secured by a new system of dogma.
The doctrine of liberalism is an attempt to escape from this
endless oscillation. The essence of liberalism is an attempt to
secure a social order not based on irrational dogma, and insuring
stability without involving more restraints than are necessary
for the preservation of the community. Whether this attempt
can succeed only the future can determine.

Book One ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY

Part i. — The Pre-Socratics

Chapter I
THE RISE OF GREEK CIVILIZATION

IN all history, nothing is so surprising or so difficult to account
for as the sudden rise of civilization in Greece. Much of what
makes civilization had already existed for thousands of years in
Egypt and in Mesopotamia, and had spread thence to neighbouring
countries. But certain elements had been lacking until the Greeks
supplied them. What they achieved in art and literature is familiar
to even-body, but what they did in the purely intellectual realm
is even more exceptional. They invented mathematics1 and
science and philosophy ; they first wrote history fcsx opposed to
mere annals; they speculated freely about the nature of the world
and the ends of life, without being bound in the fetters of any
inherited orthodoxy. What occurred was so astonishing that, until
very recent times, men were content to gape and talk mystically
about the Greek genius. It is possible, however, to understand
the development of Greece in scientific terms, and it is well worth
while to do so.

Philosophy begins with Thalcs, who, fortunately, can be dated
by the fact that he predicted an eclipse which, according to the
astronomers, occurred in the year 585 B.C. Philosophy and science
— which were not originally separate — were therefore born
together at the beginning of the sixth century. What had been
happening in Greece and neighbouring countries before this
lime? Any answer must be in part conjectural, but archaeology,
during the present century, has given us much more knowledge
than was possessed by our grandfathers.

1 Arithmetic* and some geometry existed among die Egyptians and
Babylonians, but mainly in the form of rules of thumb. Dqductive
reasoning from general premisses was a Greek innovation.

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

The art of writing was invented in Egypt about the year
4000 B.C., and in Mesopotamia not much later. In each country
writing began with pictures of the objects intended. These
pictures quickly became conventionalized, so that words were
represented by ideograms, as they still are in China. In the course
of thousands of years, this cumbrous system developed into
alphabetic writing.

The early development of civilization in Egypt and Meso-
potamia was due to the Nile, the Tigris, and the Euphrates,
which made agriculture very easy and very productive. The
civilization was in many ways similar to that which the Spaniards
found in Mexico and Peru. There was a divine king, with despotic
powers; in Egypt, he owned all the land. There was a polytheistic
religion, with a supreme god to whom the king had a specially
intimate relation. There was a military aristocracy, and also a
priestly aristocracy. The latter was often able to encroach on the
royal power, if the king was weak or if he was engaged in a
difficult war. The cultivators of the soil were serfs, belonging
to the king, the aristocracy, or the priesthood.

There was a considerable difference between Egyptian and
Babylonian theology. The Egyptians were preoccupied with
death, and believed that the souls of the dead descend into the
underworld, where they are judged by Osiris according to the
manner of their life on earth. They thought that the soul would
ultimately return to the body; this led to mummification and
to the construction of splendid tomks. The pyramids were built
by various kings at the end of the fourth millennium B.C. and
the beginning of the third. After this time, Egyptian civilization
became more and more stereotyped, and religious conservatism
made progress impossible. About 1800 B.C. Epypt was conquered
by Semites named Hyksos, who ruled the country for about
two centuries. They left no permanent mark on Epypt, but their
presence there must have helped to spread Egyptian civilization
in Syria ami Palestine.

Babylonia had a more warlike development than Egypt. At
first, the ruling race were not Semites, but "Sumcrtans," whose
origin is unknown. They invented cuneiform writing, which the
conquering Semites took over from them. There was a period
when there ucrc various independent cities whicfi fought with
each other, but in the end Babylon became supreme and <*n»tab*

THE RISE OP GREEK CIVILIZATION

lished an empire. The gods of other cities became subordinate,
and Marduk, the god of Babylon, acquired a position like that
later held by Zeus in the Greek pantheon. The same sort of
thing had happened in Egypt, but at a much earlier time.

The religions of Egypt and Babylonia, like other ancient
religions, were originally fertility cults. The earth was female,
the sun male. The bull was usually regarded as an embodiment
of male fertility, and bull-gods were common. In Babylon,
Ishtar, the earth-goddess, was supreme among female divinities.
Throughout western Asia, the Great Mother was worshipped
under various names. When Greek colonists in Asia Mjnor
found temples to her, they named her Artemis and took over
the existing cult. This is the origin of "Diana of the Ephesians."1
Christianity transformed her into the Virgin Mary, and it was a
Council at Ephesus that legitimated the title "Mother of God"
as applied to Our Lady.

Where a religion was bound up with the government of an
empire, political motives did much to transform its primitive
features. A god or goddess became associated with the State, and
had to give, not only an abundant harvest, but victory in war.
A rich priestly caste elaborated the ritual and the theology, and
fitted together into a pantheon the several divinities of the com-
ponent parts of the empire.

Through association with government, the gods also became
associated with morality. Lawgivers received their codes from a
god; thus a breach of the law became an impiety. The oldest
legal code still known is that of Hammurabi, king of Babylon,
about 2100 B.C. ; this code was asserted by the king to have been
delivered to him by Marduk. The connection between religion
and morality became continually closer throughout ancient times.

Babylonian religion, unlike that of Egypt, was more concerned
with prosperity in this world than with happiness in the next.
Magic, divination, and astrology, though not peculiar to Baby-
lonia, were more developed there than elsewhere, and it was
chiefly through Babylon that they acquired their hold on later
antiquity. From Babylon come some things that belong to science:
the division of the day into twenty-four hours, and of the circle

1 Diana wa* the I*atin equivalent of Artemis. It is Artemis who is
mentioned in the Greek Testament where^our translation speaks of
Diana*

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

into 360 degrees ; also the discovery of a cycle in eclipses, which
enabled lunar eclipses to be predicted with certainty, and solar
eclipses with some probability. This Babylonian knowledge, as
we shall see, was acquired by Thales.

The civilizations of Egypt and Mesopotamia were agricultural,
and those of surrounding nations, at first, were pastoral. A new
element came with the development of commerce, which was at
first almost entirely maritime. Weapons, until about 1000 B.C.,
were made of bronze, and nations which did not have the neces-
sary metals on their own territory were obliged to obtain them
by trade or piracy. Piracy was a temporary expedient, and where
social and political conditions were fairly stable, commerce was
found to be more profitable. In commerce, the island of Crete
seems to have been the pioneer. For about eleven centuries, say
from 2500 B.C. to 1400 B.C., an artistically advanced culture,
called the Minoan, existed in Crete. What survives of Cretan
art gives an impression of cheerfulness and almost decadent
luxury, very different from the terrifying gloom of Egyptian
temples.

Of this important civilization almost nothing was known until
the excavations of Sir Arthur Evans and others. It was a maritime
civilization, in close touch with Egypt (except during the time of
the Hyksos). From Egyptian pictures it is evident that the very
considerable commerce between Egypt and Crete was carried
on by Cretan sailors; this commerce reached its maximum
about 1500 B.C. The Cretan religion appears to have had some
affinities with the religions of Syria and Asia Minor, but in art
there was more affinity with Egypt, though Cretan art was very
original and amazingly full of life. The centre of the Cretan
civilization was the so-called "palace of Minos"at Knossos,of which
memories lingered in the traditions of classical Greece. The palaces
of Crete were very magnificent, but were destroyed about the
end of the fourteenth century B.C., probably by invaders from
Greece. The chronology of Cretan history is derived from Egyp-
tian objects found in Crete, and Cretan objects found in
Egypt ; throughout, our knowledge is dependent on archaeological
evidence.

The Cretans worshipped a goddess, or perhaps several goddesses.
The most indubitable goddess was the "Mistress of Animals,"
who was a huntress, and probably the source of the classical

THE RISE OF GREEK CIVILIZATION

Artemis.1 She apparently was also a mother; the only male deity,
apart from the "Master of Animals," is her young son. There is
some evidence of belief in an after life, in which, as in Egyptian
belief, deeds on earth receive reward or retribution. But on the
whole the Cretans appear, from their art, to have been cheerful
people, not much oppressed by gloomy superstitions. They were
fond of bull-fights, at which female as well as male toreadors
performed amazing acrobatic feats. Sir Arthur Evans thinks that
the bull-fights were religious celebrations, and that the performers
belonged to the highest nobility, but this view is not generally
accepted. The surviving pictures are full of movement and realism.

The Cretans had a linear script, but it has not been deciphered.
At home they were peaceful, and their cities were un walled;
no doubt they were defended by sea power.

Before the destruction of the Minoan culture, it spread, about
1600 B.C., to the mainland of Greece, where it survived, through
gradual stages of modification, until about 900 B.C. This mainland
civilization is called the Mycenaean; it is known through the
tombs of kings, and also through fortresses on hill-tops, which
show more fear of war than had existed in Crete. Both tombs
and fortresses remained to impress the imagination of classical
Greece. The older art products in the palaces are either actually
of Cretan workmanship, or closely akin to those of Crete. The
Mycenaean civilization, seen through a haze of legend, is that
which is depicted in Homer.

There is much uncertainty concerning the Mycenaeans. Did
they owe their civilization to being conquered by the Cretans?
Did they speak Greek, or were they an earlier indigenous race?
No certain answer to these questions is possible, but there is
evidence which makes it probable that they were conquerors
who spoke Greek, and that at least the aristocracy consisted of
fair-haired invaders from the North, who brought the Greek
language with them.8 The Greeks came to Greece in three
successive waves, first the lonians, then the Achaeans, and last
the Dorians. The lonians appear, though conquerors, to have

1 She has a male twin or consort, the "Master of Animals/' but he is
less prominent. It was at a later date that Artemis was identified with the
Great Mother %f Asia Minor.

1 See The Minoan- Mycenaean Religion and Its Survival in Greek
Religion, by Martin P. Nilsson, p. 1 1 M.

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

adopted the Cretan civilization pretty completely, as, later, the
Romans adopted the civilization of Greece. But the lonians were
disturbed, and largely dispossessed, by their successors, the
Achaeans. The Achaeans are known, from the Hittite tablets
found at Boghaz-Keui, to have had a large organized empire
in the fourteenth century B.C. The Mycenaean civilization,
which had been weakened by the warfare of the lonians and
Achaeans, was practically destroyed by the Dorians, the last
Greek invaders. Whereas previous invaders had largely adopted
the Minoan religion, the Dorians retained the original Indo-
European religion of their ancestors. The religion of Mycenaean
times, however, lingered on, especially in the lower classes, and
the religion of classical Greece was a blend of the two. In fact
some of the classical goddesses were of Mycenaean origin.

Although the above account seems probable, it must be re-
membered that we do not know whether the Mycenaeans were
Greeks or not. What we do know is that their civilization decayed,
that about the time when it ended iron superseded bronze,
and that for some time sea supremacy passed to the Phoenicians.

Both during the later part of the Mycenaean age and after its
end, some of the invaders settled down and became agriculturists,
while some pushed on, first into the islands and Asia Minor,
then into Sicily and southern Italy, where they founded cities
that lived by maritime commerce. It was in these maritime cities
that the Greeks first made qualitatively new contributions to
civilization ; the supremacy of Athens came later, and was equally
associated, when it came, with naval power.

The mainland of Greece is mountainous and largely infertile.
There are, however, many fertile valleys, with easy accx*ss to the
sea, but cut off by the mountains from easy land communication
with each other. In these valleys little separate communities grew
up, living by agriculture, and centring round a town, generally
close to the sea. In such circumstances it was natural that, as
soon as the population of any community grew too great for its
internal resources, those who could not live on the land should
take to seafaring. The cities of the mainland founded colonies,
often in places where it was much easier to find subsistence than
it had been at home. Thus in the earliest historical period the
Greeks of Asia Minor, Sicily, and Italy were much richer than
those of the Greek mainland.

THE RISE OF GREEK CIVILIZATION

The social system was very different in different parts of
Greece. In Sparta, a small aristocracy subsisted on the labour of
oppressed serfs of a different race; in the poorer agricultural
regions, the population consisted mainly of fanners cultivating
their own land with the help of their families. But where commerce
and industry flourished, the free citizens grew rich by the em-
ployment of slaves — male in the mines, female in the textile
industry. These slaves were, in Ionia, of the surrounding bar-
barian population, and were, as a rule, first acquired in war.
With increasing wealth went increasing isolation of respectable
women, who in later times had little part in the civilized aspects
of Greek life except in Sparta and Lesbos.

There was a very general development, first from monarchy
to aristocracy, then to an alternation of tyranny and democracy.
The kings were not absolute, like those of Egypt and Babylonia;
they were advised by a Council of Elders, and could not transgress
custom with impunity. "Tyranny" did not mean necessarily
bad government, but only the rule of a man whose claim to
power was not hereditary. "Democracy" meant government
by all the citizens, among whom slaves and women were not
included. The early tyrants, like the Medici, acquired their
power through being the richest members of their respective
plutocracies. Often the source of their wealth was the ownership
of gold and silver mines, made the more profitable by the new
institution of coinage, which came from the kingdom of Lydia,
adjacent to Ionia.1 Coinage seems to have been invented shortly
before 700 B.C.

One of the most important results, to the Greeks, of commerce
or piracy — at first the two are scarcely distinct — was the acqui-
sition of the art of writing. Although writing had existed for
thousands of years in Egypt and Babylonia, and the Minonn
Cretans had a script (which has not been deciphered), there is
no conclusive evidence that the Greeks acquired alphabetic
writing until about the tenth century B.C. They learnt the art
from the Phoenicians, who, like the other inhabitants of Syria,
were exposed to both Egyptian and Babylonian influences, and
who held the supremacy in maritime commerce until the rise
of the Greek cities of Ionia, Italy, and Sicily. In the fourteenth
century, writirffc to Ikhnaton (the heretic king of Egypt), Syrians
1 Sec P. N. Ure, The Origin of Tyranny.

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

still used the Babylonian cuneiform; but Hiram of Tyre (969-
936) used the Phoenician alphabet, which probably developed out
of the Egyptian script. The Egyptians used, at first, a pure picture
writing; gradually the pictures, much conventionalized, came to
represent syllables (the first syllables of the names of the things
pictured), and at last single letters, on the principle of "A was
an Archer who shot at a frog."1 This last step, which was not
taken with any completeness by the Egyptians themselves, but
by the Phoenicians, gave the alphabet with all its advantages.
The Greeks, borrowing from the Phoenicians, altered the alphabet
to suit their language, and made the important innovation of
adding vowels instead of having only consonants. There can be
no doubt that the acquisition of this convenient method of
writing greatly hastened the rise of Greek civilization.

The first notable product of the Hellenic civilization was
Homer. Even-thing about Homer is conjectural, but there is a
widely held opinion that he was a series of poets rather than an
individual. According to those who hold this opinion, the Iliad
and the Odyssey between them took about two hundred years
to complete, some say from 750 lo 550 B.r.,2 while others hold
that "Homer" was nearly complete at the end of the eighth
century.3 The Homeric poems, in their present form, were
brought to Athens by Peisistratus, who reigned (with inter-
missions) from 560 to 527 B.C. From his time onward, the Athe-
nian youth learnt Homer by heart, and this was the most important
part of their education. In some parts of Greece, notably in Sparta,
Homer had not the same prestige until a later date.

The Homeric poems, like the courtly romances of the later
Middle Ages, represent the point of view of a civilized aristocracy,
which ignores as plebeian various superstitions that arc still
rampant among the populace. In much later times, many of these
superstitions rose again to the light of day. Guided by anthropology,
many modern writers have come to the conclusion that Homer,
so far from being primitive, was an expurgator, a kind of eighteenth
century rationalizer of ancient myths, holding up an upper-class

1 For instance, "Gimel," the third letter of the Hebrew alphabet,
means "camel," and the iign for it is a conventionalized picture of a
camel.

1 Beloch, Gruchischf Ge$chithtet chap. xii.

§ Kottovtieflf, History of the Ancient World, Vol. I. p. 390..

THE RISK OF GREEK CIVILIZATION

ideal of urbane enlightenment. The Olympian gods, who represent
religion in Homer, were not the only objects of worship among the
Greeks, either in his time or later. There were other darker and
more savage elements in popular religion, which were kept at
bay by the Greek intellect at its best, but lay in wait to pounce
in moments of weakness or terror. In the time of decadence,
beliefs which Homer had discarded proved to have persisted,
half buried, throughout the classical period. This fact explains
many things that would otherwise seem inconsistent and sur-
prising.

Primitive religion, everywhere, was tribal rather than personal.
Certain rites were performed, which were intended, by sympa-
thetic magic, to further the interests of the tribe, especially in
respect of fertility, vegetable, animal, and human. The winter
solstice was a time when the sun had to be encouraged not to
kro on diminishing in strength; spring and harvest also called
for appropriate ceremonies. These were often such as to generate
a great collective excitement, in which individuals lost their
sense of separatcness and felt themselves at one with the whole
tribe. All over the world, at a certain stage of religious evolution,
sacred animals and human beings were ceremonially killed and
eaten. In different regions, this stage occurred at very different
dates. Human sacrifice usually lasted longer than the sacrificial
eating of human victims; in Greece it was not yet extinct at the
beginning of historical times. Fertility rites without such cruel
aspects were common throughout Greece; the Eleusinian mys-
teries, in particular, were essentially agricultural in their symbolism.

It must he admitted that religion, in Homer, is not very religious.
The gods are completely human, differing from men only in
being immortal and possessed of superhuman powers. Morally,
there is nothing to be said for them, and it is difficult to see how
they can have inspired much awe. In some passages, supposed
to be late, they are treated with Voltairean irreverence. Such
genuine religious feeling as is to be found in Homer is less con-
cerned with the gods of Olympus than with more shadowy
beings such as Fate or Necessity or Destiny, to whom even Zeus
is subject. Fate exercised a great influence on all Greek thought,
and perhaps was one of the sources from which science derived
the belief in natural law.

1 lomeric gods were the gods of a conquering aristocracy,

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

not the useful fertility gods of those who actually tilled the soil.
As Gilbert Murray says r1

"The gods of most nations claim to have created the world.
The Olympians make no such claim. The most they ever did was
to conquer it. ... And when they have conquered their kingdoms,
what do they do? Do they attend to the government? Do they
promote agriculture? Do they practise trades and industries?
Not a bit of it. Why should they do any honest work? They
find it easier to live on the revenues and blast with thunderbolts
the people who do not pay. They are conquering chieftains,
royal buccaneers. They fight, and feast, and play, and make
music; they drink deep, and roar with laughter at the lame smith
who waits on them. They are never afraid, except of their own
king. They never tell lies, except in love and war."

Homer's human heroes, equally, are not very well behaved.
The leading family is the House of Pelops, but it did not succeed
in setting a pattern of happy family life.

"Tantalos, the Asiatic founder of the dynasty, began its career
by a direct offence airainst the gods; some said, by trying to
cheat them into eating human flesh, that of his o\vn son Pelops.
Pelops, having been miraculously restored to life, offended in
his turn. He won his famous chariot-race against Oinomans,
king of Pisa, by the connivance of the latter's charioteer, Myrtibs,
and then got rid of his confederate, whom he had promised to
reward, by flinging him into the sea. The curse descended to
his sons, Atreus and Thyestes, in the form of what the Greeks
called ate, a strong if not actually irresistible impulse to crime.
Thyestes corrupted his brother's wife and thereby managed
to steal the Muck* of the family, the famous golden-fleeced ram.
Atreus in turn secured his brother's banishment, and recalling
him under pretext of a reconciliation, feasted him on the flesh
of his own children. The curse was now inherited by Atreus'
son Agamemnon, who offended Artemis by killing a sacred stag,
sacrificed his own daughter Iphigcnia to appease the goddess
and obtain a safe passage to Troy for his fleet, and was in turn
murdered by his faithless wife Klytaimnestra and her paramour
Aigisthos, a surviving son of Thyestes. Orestes, Agamemnon's son,
in turn avenged his father by killing his mother and Aigisthos. "8

1 Fh f Stages of Greek Religion, p. 67.

1 Primitive Culture in Greece, IJ. J. Rose, 1925, p. 193.

3°

THE RISE OP GREEK CIVILIZATION

Homer as a finished achievement was a product of Ionia, i.e. of
a part of Hellenic Asia Minor and the adjacent islands. Some time
during the sixth century at latest, the Homeric poems became
fixed in their present form. It was also during this century that
Greek science and philosophy and mathematics began. At the
same time events of fundamental importance were happening
in other parts of the world. Confucius, Buddha, and Zoroaster,
if they existed, probably belong to the same century.1 In the
middle of the century the Persian Empire was established by
Cyrus; towards its close the Greek cities of Ionia, to which the
Persians had allowed a limited autonomy, made a fruitless rebel-
lion, which was put down by Darius, and their best men became
exiles. Several of the philosophers of this period were refugees,
who wandered from city to city in the still unenslaved parts of
the Hellenic world, spreading the civilization that, until then,
had been mainly confined to Ionia. They were kindly treated
in their wanderings. Xcnophanes, who flourished in the later
part of the sixth century, and who was one of the refugees, says:
"This is the sort of thing we should say by the fireside in the
winter-time, as we lie on soft couches, after a good meal, drinking
sweet wine and crunching chickpeas: 'Of what country are you,
and how old are you, good Sir? And how old were you when the
Mcde appeared?1 " The rest of Greece succeeded in preserving
its independence at the battles of Salamis and Plataea, after
which Ionia was liberated for a time.*

Greece \vas divided into a large number of small independent
states, each consisting of a city with some agricultural territory
surrounding it. The level of civilization was very different in
different parts of the Greek world, and only a minority of cities
contributed to the total of Hellenic achievement. Sparta, of which
I shall have much to say later, was important in a military sense,
but not culturally. Corinth was rich and prosperous, a great
commercial centre, but not prolific in great men.

Then there were purely agricultural rural communities, such

1 Zoroaster's date, however, is very conjectural. Some place it as early
as looo u.c. See Cambridge Ancient History, Vol. IV, p. 207.

1 As a result of the defeat of Athens by Sparta, the Persians regained
the whole coast of Asia Minor, to which their right was acknowledged in
the Peace oi Antalcidas (387-6 B.C.). About fifty years later, they were
«ncorportteti in Alexander's empire.

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

as the proverbial Arcadia, which townsmen imagined to be
idyllic, but which really was full of ancient barbaric horrors.

The inhabitants worshipped Hermes and Pan, and had a
multitude of fertility cults, in which, often, a mere square pillar
did duty in place of a statue of the god. The goat was the symbol
of fertility, because the peasants were too poor to possess bulls.
When food was scarce, the statue of Pan was beaten. (Similar
things are still done in remote Chinese villages.) There was a clan
of supposed were-wolves, associated, probably, with human
sacrifice and cannibalism. It was thought that whoever tasted the
flesh of a sacrificed human victim became a were-wolf. There
was a cave sacred to Zeus Lykaios (the wolf- Zeus); in this cave
no one had a shadow, and whoever entered it died within a year.
AH this superstition was still flourishing in classical times.1

Pan, whose original name (some say) was "Paon", meaning the
feeder or shepherd, acquired his better-known title, interpreted
as meaning the All-God, when his worship was adopted by
Athens in the fifth century, after the Persian war.-

There was, however, in ancient Greece, much that we can feel
to have been religion as we understand the term. This was con-
nected, not with the Olympians, but with Dionysus, or Bacchus,
whom we think of most naturally as the somewhat disreputable-
god of wine and drunkenness. The way in which, out of his
worship, there arose a profound mysticism, which greatly influ-
enced many of the philosophers, and even had a part in shaping
Christian theology, is very remarkable, and must be understood
by anyone who wishes to study the development of (ireck
thought.

Dionysus, or Bacchus, was originally a Thracian god. The
Thracians were very much less civilized than the Greeks, who
regarded them as barbarians. Like all primitive agriculturists,
they had fertility cults, and a god who promoted fertility. Mis
name was Bacchus. It was never quite clear whether Bacchus
had the shape of a man or of a bull. When they discovered how
to make beer, they thought intoxication divine, and gave honour
to Bacchus. When, later, they came to know the vine and to learn
to drink wine, they thought even better of him. His functions in
promoting fertility in general became somewhat subordinate

1 ROM, Primitive Greece, p. 65 (I.

1 J. £. Harrison, Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion, p. 651

THE RISE OF GREEK CIVILIZATION

to his functions in relation to the grape and the divine madness
produced by wine.

At what date his worship migrated from Thrace to Greece is
not known, but it seems to have been just before the beginning
of historical times. The cult of Bacchus was met with hostility
by the orthodox, but nevertheless it established itself. It con-
tained many barbaric elements, such as tearing wild animals
to pieces and eating the whole of them raw. It had a curious
element of feminism. Respectable matrons and maids, in large
companies, would spend whole nights on the bare hills in dances
which stimulated ecstasy, and in an intoxication perhaps partly
alcoholic, but mainly mystical. Husbands found the practice an-
noying, but did not dare to oppose religion. Both the beauty and
the savagery of the cult are set forth in the Bacchae of Euripides.

The success of Dionysus in Greece is not surprising. Like all
communities that have been civilized quickly, the Greeks, or at
least a certain proportion of them, developed a love of the primi-
tive, and a hankering after a more instinctive and passionate
way of life than that sanctioned by current morals. To the man
or woman who, by compulsion, is more civilized in behaviour
than in feeling, rationality is irksome and virtue is felt as a burden
and a slavery. This leads to a reaction in thought, in feeling, and
in conduit. It is the reaction in thought that will specially concern
us, but something must first be said about the reaction in feeling
and conduct.

The civilized man is distinguished from the savage mainly by
prudence^ or, to use a slightly wider term, forethought. He is
willing to endure present pains for the sake of future pleasures,
even if the future pleasures are rather distant. This habit began to
be important with the rise of agriculture; no animal and no
savage would work in the spring in order to have food next
winter, except for a few purely instinctive forms of action, such
as bees making honey or squirrels burying nuts. In these cases,
there is no forethought ; there is a direct impulse to an act which,
to the human spectator, is obviously going to prove useful later
on. True forethought only arises when a man does something
towards which no impulse urges him, because his reason tells
him that he will profit by it at some future date. Hunting requires
no forethought* because it is pleasurable ; but tilling the soil is
labour, and cannot be done from spontaneous impulse.

tf mary o/ Wnt** PAtfe***? 33 B

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

Civilization checks impulse not only through forethought,
which is a self-administered check, but also through law, custom,
and religion. This check it inherits from barbarism, but it makes
it less instinctive and more systematic. Certain acts are labelled
criminal, and are punished ; certain others, though not punished
by law, are labelled wicked, and expose those who arc guilty of
them to social disapproval. The institution of private property
brings with it the subjection of women, and usually the creation
of a slave class. On the one hand the purposes of the community
are enforced upon the individual, and, on the other hand the
individual, having acquired the habit of viewing his life as a
whole, increasingly sacrifices his present to his future.

It is evident that this process can be carried too far, as it is, for
instance, by the miser. But without going to such extremes
prudence may easily involve the loss of some of the best things
in life. The worshipper of Dionysus reacts against prudence. In
intoxication, physical or spiritual, he recovers an intensity of
feeling which prudence had destroyed; he finds the world full
of delight and beauty, and his imagination is suddenly liberated
from the prison of every-day preoccupations. The Bacchic
ritual produce^ what was called "enthusiasm," which means,
etymologically, having the god enter into the worshipper, who
believed that he became one wilh the god. Much of what is
greatest in human achievement involves some element of intoxi-
cation,1 some sweeping away of prudence by pasbion. Without
the Bacchic element, life would be uninteresting; with it, it is
dangerous. Prudence versus passion is a conflict that runs through
history. It is not a conflict in which we ought to side wholly
with either party.

In the sphere of thought, sober civilization is roughly synony-
mous with science. But science, unadulterated, is not satisfying;
men need also passion and art and religion. Science may set
limits to knowledge, but should not set limits to imagination.
Among Greek philosophers, as among those of later times, there
were those who were primarily scientific and those who were
primarily religious; the latter owed much, directly or indirectly,
to the religion of Bacchus. This applies especially to Plato, and
through him to those later developments which were ultimately
embodied in Christian theology,

1 I mean mental intoxication, not intoxication by ilcohof.

THE RISE OP GREEK CIVILIZATION

The worship of Dionysus in its original form was savage, and
in many ways repulsive. It was not in this form that it influenced
the philosophers, but in the spiritualized form attributed to
Orpheus, which was ascetic, and substituted mental for physical
intoxication.

. Orpheus is a dim but interesting figure. Some hold that he was
an actual man, others that he was a god or an imaginary hero.
Traditionally, he came from Thrace, like Bacchus, but it seems
more probable that he (or the movement associated with his name)
came from Crete. It is certain that Orphic doctrines contain
much that seems to have its first source in Egypt, and it was
chiefly through Crete that Egypt influenced Greece. Orpheus is
said to have been a reformer who was torn to pieces by frenzied
Maenads actuated by Bacchic orthodoxy. His addiction u> music
is not so prominent in the older forms of the legend as it became
later. Primarily he was a priest and a philosopher.

Whatever may have been the teaching of Orpheus (if he existed),
the teaching of the Orphics is well known. They believed in the
transmigration of souls; they taught that the soul hereafter
might achieve eternal bliss or suffer eternal or temporary torment
according to its way of life here on earth. They aimed at becoming
"pure," partly by ceremonies of purification, partly by avoiding
certain kinds of contamination. The most orthodox among them
abstained from animal food, except on ritual occasions when
they ate it sacramentally. Man, they held, is partly of earth,
partly of heaven; by a pure life the heavenly part is increased
and the earthly part diminished. In the end a man may become
one with Bacchus, and is called "a Bacchus." There was an
elaborate theology, according to which Bacchus was twice born,
once of his mother Semele, and once from the thigh of his father
Zeus.

There are many forms of the Dionysus myth. In one of them,
Dionysus is the son of Zeus and Persephone; while still a boy,
he is torn to pieces by Titans, who eat his flesh, all but the heart.
Some say that the heart was given by Zeus to Semele, others
that Zeus swallowed it ; in either case, it gave rise to the second
birth of Dionysus. The tearing of a wild animal and the de-
vouring of its raw flesh by Bacchae was supposed to re-enact
the tearing and "eating of Dionysus by the Titans, and the animal,
in some* sense, was an incarnation of the god. The Titans were

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

earth-born, but after eating the god they had a spark of divinity.
So man is partly of earth, partly divine, and Bacchic rites sought
to make him more nearly completely divine.

Euripides puts a confession into the mouth of an Orphic priest,
which is instructive:1

Lord of Europa's Tyrian line,

Zeus-born, who holdest at thy feet
The hundred citadels of Crete,

I seek to Thee from that dim shrine,

Roofed by the Quick and Carven Beam,
By Chalyb steel and wild bull's blood.
In flawless joints of Cypress wood

Made steadfast. There is one pure stream

My days have run. The servant I,
Initiate, of Idaean Jove;2
Where midnight Zapreus3 roves, I rove;

I have endured his thunder-cry ;

Fulfilled his red and bleeding feasts ;

Held the Great Mother's mountain flume,
I am set free and named by name

A Bacchos of the Mailed Priests.

Robed in pure white I have borne me clean
From man's vile birth and coffined clay,
And exiled from my lip alway

Touch of all meat where Life hath been.

Orphic tablets have been found in tombs, giving instructions to
the soul of the dead person as to how to find his way in the
next world, and whal to say in order to prove himself worthy of
salvation. They are broken and incomplete; the most nearly
complete (the Petelia tablet) is as follows :

Thou shah find on the left of the House of Hades a Well-spring,
And by the side thereof standing a white cypress.
To this well-spring approach not near.

1 The verse translations in thtt chapter arc by Prufcttur Gilbert
Murray.

* Mystically identified with DionyHu*.
1 One of the many name* of I )ionysm.

THE RISE OF GREEK CIVILIZATION

But thou shalt find another by the Lake of Memory,

Cold water flowing forth, and there are Guardians before it,

Say: "I am a child of Earth and of Starry Heaven;

But my race is of Heaven (alone). This ye know yourselves.

And lo, I am parched with thirst and I perish. Give me quickly

The cold water flowing forth from the Lake of Memory."

And of themselves they will give thee to drink from the holy

well-spring,
And thereafter among the other heroes thou shalt have lordship. . . .

Another tablet says: — "Hail, Thou who hast suffered the suffer-
ing . . . Thou art become (Sod from Man." And yet in another: —
"Happy and Blessed One, thou shalt be God instead of mortal/'

The well-spring of which the soul is not to drink is Lethe, which
brings forgetfulness; the other well-spring is Mnemosyne, re-
membrance. The soul in the next world, if it is to achieve salva-
tion, is not to forget, but, on the contrary, to acquire a memory
surpassing what is natural.

The Orphics were an ascetic sect; wine, to them, was only a
symbol, as, later, in the Christian sacrament. The intoxication that
they sought was that of "enthusiasm," of union with the god. They
bt-lieved themselves, in this way, to acquire mystic knowledge not
obtainable by ordinary means. This mystical element entered into
Greek philosophy with Pythagoras, who was a reformer of Orphism
as Orpheus was a reformer of the religion of Dionysus. From
Pythagoras Orphic elements entered into the philosophy of Plato,
and from Plato into most later philosophy that was in any degree
religious.

Certain definitely Bacchic elements survived wherever Orphism
had influence. One of these was ferrriism, of which there was
much in Pythagoras, and which, in Plato, went so far as to claim
complete political equality for women. "Women as a sex," says
Pythagoras, "are more naturally akin to piety." Another Bacchic
element was respect for violent emotion. Greek tragedy grew out
of the rites of Dionysus. Euripides, especially, honoured the two
chief gods of Orphism, Dionysus and Eros. He has no respect for
the coldly self-righteous well-behaved man, who, in his tragedies,
is apt to be driven mad or otherwise brought to grief by the gods
in resentment of his blasphemy.

The conventional tradition concerning the Greeks is that they
exhibited an admirable serenity, which enabled them to contem-

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

plate passion from without, perceiving whatever beauty it exhibited
but themselves calm and Olympian. This is a very one-sided view.
It is true, perhaps, of Homer, Sophocles, and Aristotle, but it is
emphatically not true of those Greeks who were touched, directly
or indirectly, by Bacchic or Orphic influences. At Eleusis, where
the Eleusinian mysteries formed the most sacred part of Athenian
State religion, a hymn was sung, saying:

With Thy wine-cup waving high,
With Thy maddening revelry,
To Eleusis' flowery vale,
Comest Thou — Bacchus, Paean, hail!

In the Bacchae of Euripides, the chorus of Maenads displays a
combination of poetry and savagery which is the very reverse of
serene. They celebrate the delight in tearing a wild animal limb
from limb, and eating it raw then and there:

O glad, glad on the Mountains
To swoon in the race outworn.
When the holy fawn-skin clings

And all else sweeps away,
To the joy of the quick red fountains,
The blood of the hill-goat torn,
The glory of wild-beast ravenin^s

Where the hill-top catches the day,
To the Phrygian, Lydian mountains
*Tis Hromios leads the way.

(Bromtos was another of the many names of Dionysus.) The dance
of the Maenads on the mountain side was not only fierce; it was
an escape from the burdens and cares of civilization into the world
of non-human beauty and the freedom of wind and stars. In a les<
frenzied mood they sing:

Will they ever come to me, ever a^ain,

The long, long dances,
On through the dark till the dim stars wane ?
Shall I feel the dew on my throat, and the stream
Of wind in my hair? Shall our white feet j^lcam

In the dim expanses?
O feet of the fawn to the greenwood fled,

Alone in the grass and the loveliness ;
I^eap of the hunted, no more in dread,

Beyond the snares and the deadly press.

THE RISE OF GREEK CIVILIZATION

Yet a voice still in the distance sounds,
A voice and a fear and a haste of hounds,
O wildly labouring, fiercely fleet,

Onward yet by river and glen —
Is it joy or terror, ye storm-swift feet ?

To the dear lone lands untroubled of men,
Where no voice sounds, and amid the shadowy green
The little things of the woodland live unseen.

Before repeating that the Greeks were "serene," try to imagine
the matrons of Philadelphia behaving in this manner, even in a
play by Eugene O'Neill.

The Orphic is no more "serene" than the unreformed wor-
shipper of Dionysus. To the Orphic, life in this world is pain and
weariness. We are bound to a wheel which turns through endless
cycles of birth and death; our true life is the stars, but we are
tied to earth. Only by purification and renunciation and an ascetic
life can we escape from the wheel and attain at last to the ecstasy
of union with God. This is not the view of men to whom life is
easy and pleasant. It is more like the Negro spiritual:

I'm tfoing to tell God all of my troubles
When I get home.

Not all of the Greeks, but a large proportion of them, were
passionate, unhappy, at war with themselves, driven along one
road by the intellect and along another by the passions, with the
imagination to conceive heaven and the wilful self-assertion that
creates hell. They had a maxim "nothing too much," but they
were in fact excessive in everything — in pure thought, in poetry,
in religion, and in sin. It was the combination of passion and
intellect that made them great, while they were great. Neither
alone would have transformed the world for all future time as
they transformed it. Their prototype in mythology is not
Olympian Zeus, but Prometheus, who brought fire from heaven
and was rewarded with eternal torment.

If taken as characterizing the Greeks as a whole, however, what
has just been said would be as one-sided as the view that the
Greeks were characterized by "serenity." There were, in fact, two
tendencies in Greece, one passionate, religious, mystical, other-
worldly, the other cheerful, empirical, rationalistic, and interested
in acquiring knowledge of a diversity of facts. Herodotus represents

WESTERN PHILOSOPHTCAL THOUGHT

The first notable product of the Hellenic civilization was
Homer. Everything about Homer is conjectural, but there is a
widely held opinion that he was a series of poets rather than an
individual. According to those who hold this opinion, the Iliad
and the Odyssey between them took about two hundred years
to complete, some say from 750 to 550 B.C.,2 while others hold
that "Homer11 was nearly complete at the end of the eighth
century.3 The Homeric poems, in their present form, were
brought to Athens by Peisistratus, who reigned (with inter-
missions) from 560 to 527 B.C. From his time onward, the Athe-
- nian youth learnt Homer by heart, and this was the most important
part of their education. In some parts of Greece, notably in Sparta,
Homer had not the same prestige until a later date.

The Homeric poems, like the courtly romances of the later
Middle Ages, represent the point of view of a civilized aristocracy,
which ignores as plebeian various superstitions that arc still
rampant among the populace. In much later times, many of these
superstitions rose again to the light of day. Guided by anthropology,
many modern writers have come to the conclusion that Homer,
so far from being primitive, was an cxpurgator, a kind of eighteenth
century rationalizer of ancient myths, holding up an upper-class

1 For instance, "Gimel," the third letter of the Hebrew alphabet,
means "camel/* and the sign for it is a conventionalized picture of a
camel.

1 Oeloch, Grieclwcht Gttchichte, chap. xti.

* Rostovtseff, Hittury of tht Ancient World, Vol. I, p. 399.

THF RISE OF GREEK CIVILIZATION

ideal of urbane enlightenment. The Olympian gods, who represent
religion in I tamer, were not the only objects of worship among the
Greeks, either in his time or later. There were other darker and
more savage elements in popular religion, which were kept at
bay by the Greek intellect at its best, but lay in wait to pounce
in moments of weakness or terror. In the time of decadence,
beliefs which Homer had discarded proved to have persisted,
half buried, throughout the classical period. This fact explains
many things that would otherwise seem inconsistent and sur-
prising.

Primitive religion, everywhere, was tribal rather than personal.
Certain rites were performed, which were intended, by sympa-
thetic magic, to further the interests of the tribe, especially in
respect of fertility, vegetable, animal, and human. The winter
solstice was a time when the sun had to be encouraged not to
go on diminishing in strength; spring and harvest also called
for appropriate ceremonies. These were often such as to generate
a great collective excitement, in which individuals lost their
sense of separateness and felt themselves at one with the whole
tribe. All over the world, at a certain stage of religious evolution,
sacred animals and human beings were ceremonially killed and
eaten. In different regions, this stage occurred at very different
dates. Human sacrifice usually lasted longer than the sacrificial
eating of human victims; in Greece it was not yet extinct at the
beginning of historical times. Fertility rites without such cruel
aspects \\ere common throughout Greece; the Eleusinian mys-
teries, in particular, were essentially agricultural in their symbolism.

It must be admitted that religion, in Homer, is not very religious.
The gods are completely human, differing from men only in
being immortal and possessed of superhuman powers. Morally,
there is nothing to be said for them, and it is difficult to see how
they can have inspired much awe. In some passages, supposed
to be late, they are treated with Voltairean irreverence. Such
genuine religious feeling as is to be found in Homer is less con-
cerned with the gods of Olympus than with more shadow)'
beings such as Fate or Necessity or Destiny, to whom even Zeus
is subject. Fate exercised a great influence on all Greek thought,
and perhaps was one of the sources from which science derived
the belief in nUtural law.

The Homeric gods were the gods of a conquering aristocracy,

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

not the useful fertility gods of those who actually tilled the soil.
As Gilbert Murray says:1

Homer's human heroes, equally, are not very well behaved.
The leading family is the House of Pelops, but it did not succeed
in setting a pattern of happy family life.

"Tantalos, the Asiatic founder of the dynasty, began its career
by a direct offence against the gods; some said, by trying to
cheat them into eating human flesh, that of his own son Pelops.
Pelops, having been miraculously restored to life, offended in
his turn. He won his famous chariot-race against Oinomao*,
kinp of Pisa, by the connivance of the latter 's charioteer, Myrtilos.
and then got rid of his confederate, whom he had promised to
reward, by flinging him into the .sea. The curse descended to
his sons, Atreus and Thyestes, in the form of what the Greeks
called ate, a strong if not actually irresistible impulse to crime.
Thyestes corrupted his brother's wife and thereby managed
to steal the 'luck* of the family, the famous golden-fleeced ram.
Atreus in turn secured his brother's banishment, and recalling
him under pretext of a reconciliation, feasted him on the flesh
of his own children. The curse was now inherited by Atreus'
son Agamemnon, who offended Artemis by killing a sacred stag,
sacrificed his own daughter Iphigcnia to appease the goddess
and obtain a safe passage to Troy for his fleet, and was in turn
murdered by his faithless wife Klytairnnestra and her paramour
Aigisthos, a surviving son of Thyestes. Orestes, Agamemnon's son,
in turn avenped his father by killing his mother and Aigistlios."*

1 Fn c Stages of Greek Rtligitmt p. 67.

* Primitive Culture in Greece, II. J. Rose, 1925, p.

3°

THE RISE OF GREEK CIVILIZATION

Homer as a finished achievement was a product of Ionia, i.e. of
a part of Hellenic Asia Minor and the adjacent islands. Some time
during the sixth century at latest, the Homeric poems became
fixed in their present form. It was also during this century that
Greek science and philosophy and mathematics began. At the
same time events of fundamental importance were happening
in other parts of the world. Confucius, Buddha, and Zoroaster,
if they existed, probably belong to the same century.1 In the
middle of the century the Persian Empire was established by
Cyrus ; towards its close the Greek cities of Ionia, to which the
Persians had allowed a limited autonomy, made a fruitless rebel-
lion, which was put down by Darius, and their best men became
exiles. Several of the philosophers of this period were refugees,
who wandered from city to city in the still unenslaved parts of
the Hellenic world, spreading the civilization that, until then,
had been mainly contincd to Ionia. They were kindly treated
in their wanderings. Xenophanes, who flourished in the later
part of the sixth century, and who was one of the refugees, says:
"This is the sort of thing we should say by the fireside in the
winter-time, as we lie on soft couches, after a good meal, drinking
sweet wine and crunching chickpeas: 'Of what country are you,
and how old are you, good Sir? And how old were you when the
Mede appeared?1 " The re*»t of Greece succeeded in preserving
its independence at the battles of Salamis and Plataea, after
which Ionia was liberated for a time.1

Greece was divided into a large number of small independent
states, each consisting of a city with some agricultural territory
surrounding it. The level of civilization was very different in
different parts of the Greek world, and only a minority of cities
contributed to the total of Hellenic achievement. Sparta, of which
1 shall have much to say later, was important in a military sense,
but not culturally. Corinth was rich and prosperous, a great
commercial centre, but not prolific in great men.

Then there were purely agricultural rural communities, such

1 Zoroaster's date, however, is very conjectural. Seine place it as early
at> 1000 B.C. Sec Cambridge Anritnt History, Vol. IV, p, 207.

1 As a result of the defeat of Athens by Sparta, the Persians regained
the whole coast of Asia Minor, to which their right was acknowledged in
the Peace of Antukidas (387-6 ii.c.). About fifty years later, they were
incorporated in Alexander's empire.

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

as the proverbial Arcadia, which townsmen imagined to be
idyllic, but which really was full of ancient barbaric horrors.

The inhabitants worshipped Hermes and Pan, and had a
multitude of fertility cults, in which, often, a mere square pillar
did duty in place of a statue of the god. The goat was the symbol
of fertility, because the peasants were too poor to possess bulls.
When food was scarce, the statue of Pan was beaten. (Similar
things are still done in remote Chinese villages.) There was a clan
of supposed were-wolves, associated, probably, with human
sacrifice and cannibalism. It was thought that whoever tasted the
flesh of a sacrificed human victim became a were-wolf. There
was a cave sacred to Zeus Lykaios (the wolf- Zeus); in this cave
no one had a shadow, and whoever entered it died within a year.
All this superstition was still flourishing in classical times.1

Dionysus, or Bacchus, was originally a Thracian god. The
Thracians were very much less civilized than the G reeks, who
regarded them as barbarians. Like all primitive agriculturists,
they had fertility cults, and a god who promoted fertility. His
name was Bacchus. It was never quite clear whether Bacchus
had the shape of a man or of a bull. When they discovered how
to make beer, they thought intoxication divine, and gave honour
to Bacchus. When, later, they came to know the vine and to learn
to drink wine, they thought even better of him* His functions in
promoting fertility in general became somewhat subordinate

1 Rose, Primitive Greece, p. 65 II.

1 J. £. Harrison, Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Helicon* p. 651

THE RISE OF GREEK CIVILIZATION

to his functions in relation to the grape and the divine madness
produced by wine.

At what date his worship migrated from Thrace to Greece is
not known, but it seems to have been just before the beginning
of historical times. The cult of Bacchus was met with hostility
by the orthodox, but nevertheless it established itself. It con-
tained many barbaric elements, such as tearing wild animals
to pieces and eating the whole of them raw. It had a curious
clement of feminism. Respectable matrons and maids, in large
companies, would spend whole nights on the bare hills in dances
which stimulated ecstasy, and in an intoxication perhaps partly
alcoholic, but mainly mystical. Husbands found the practice an-
noying, but did not dare to oppose religion. Both the beauty and
the savagery of the cult are set forth in the Bacchae of Euripides.

The success of Dionysus in Greece is not surprising. Like all
communities that have been civilized quickly, the Greeks, or at
least a certain proportion of them, developed a love of the primi-
tive, and a hankering after a more instinctive and passionate
way of life than that sanctioned by current morals. To the man
or woman who, by compulsion, is more civilized in behaviour
than in feeling, rationality is irksome and virtue is felt as a burden
and a slavery. This leads to a reaction in thought, in feeling, and
in conduct. Jt is the reaction in thought that will specially concern
us, but something must first be said about the reaction in feeling
and conduct.

The civilized man is distinguished from the savage mainly by
prudence, or, to use a slightly wider term, forethought. He is
willing to endure present pains for the sake of future pleasures,
even if the future pleasures are rather distant. This habit began to
be important with the rise of agriculture; no animal and no
savage would work in the spring in order to have food next
winter, except for a few purely instinctive forms of action, such
as bees making honey or squirrels burying nuts. In these cases,
there is no forethought; there is a direct impulse to an act which,
to the human spectator, is obviously going to prove useful later
on. True forethought only arises when a man does something
towards which no impulse urges him, because his reason tells
him that he will profit by it at some future date. Hunting requires
no forethought* because it is pleasurable ; but tilling the soil is
labour,4md cannot be done from spontaneous impulse.

uj H'Mfcm /»*****? 33 B

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

Civilization checks impulse not only through forethought,
which is a self-administered check, but also through law, custom ,
and religion. This check it inherits from barbarism, but it makes
it less instinctive and more systematic. Certain acts arc labelled
criminal, and are punished ; certain others, though not punished
by law, are labelled wicked, and expose those who arc guilty of
them to social disapproval. The institution of private property
brings with it the subjection of women, and usually the creation
of a slave class. On the one hand the purposes of the community
are enforced upon the individual, and, on the other hand the
individual, having acquired the habit of viewing his life as a
whole, increasingly sacrifices his present to his future.

It is evident that this process can be carried too far, as it is, for
instance, by the miser. But without going to such extremes
prudence may easily involve the loss of some of the best things
in life. The worshipper of Dionysus reacts against prudence. In
intoxication, physical or spiritual, he recovers an intensity of
feeling which prudence had destroyed; he finds the world full
of delight and beauty, and his imagination is suddenly liberated
from the prison of every-day preoccupations. The Bacchic
ritual produced what was called "enthusiasm," which means,
etymologically, having the god enter into the worshipper, who
believed that he became one with the god. Much of what is
greatest in human achievement involves some element of intoxi-
cation,1 some sweeping away of prudence by passion. Without
the Bacchic element, life would be uninteresting; with it, it is
dangerous. Prudence versus passion is a conflict that runs through
history. It is not a conflict in which we ought to side wholly
with either party.

In the sphere of thought, sober civilization is roughly synony-
mous with science. But science, unadulterated, is not satisfying;
men need also passion and art and religion. Science may set
limits to knowledge, but should not set limits to imagination.
Among Greek philosophers, as among those of bter times, there
were those who were primarily scientific and those who were
primarily religious; the latter owed much, directly or indirectly,
to the religion of Bacchus. This applies especially to Plato, and
through him to those later developments which were ultimately
embodied in Christian theology.

1 I mean mental intoxication, not intoxication by alcohol.

THE RISE OF GREEK CIVILIZATION

Orpheus is a dim but interesting figure. Some hold that he was
an actual man, others that he was a god or an imaginary hero.
Traditionally, he came from Thrace, like Bacchus, but it seems
more probable that he (or the movement associated with his name)
came from Crete. It is certain that Orphic doctrines contain
much that seems to have its first source in Egypt, and it was
chiefly through Crete that Egypt influenced Greece. Orpheus is
said to have l>een a reformer who was torn to pieces by frenzied
Maenads actuated by Bacchic orthodoxy. His addiction to music
is not so prominent in the older forms of the legend as it became
later. Primarily he was a priest and a philosopher.

Whatever may have been the teaching of Orpheus (if he existed),
the teaching of the Orphics is well known. They believed in the
transmigration of souls; they taught that the soul hereafter
might achieve eternal bliss or suffer eternal or temporary torment
according to its way of life here on earth. They aimed at becoming
"pure," partly by ceremonies of purification, partly by avoiding
certain kinds of contamination. The most orthodox among them
abstained from animal food, except on ritual occasions when
they ate it sacramentally. Man, they held, is partly of earth,
partly of heaven; by a pure life the heavenly part is increased
and the earthly part diminished. In the end a man may become
one with Bacchus, and is called **a Bacchus." There was an
elaborate theology, according to which Bacchus was twice born,
once of his mother Semele, and once from the thigh of his father
Zeus.

There are many forms of the Dionysus myth. In one of them,
Dionysus is the son of Zeus and Persephone; while still a boy,
he is torn to pieces by Titans, who eat his flesh, all but the heart.
Some say that the heart was given by Zeus to Semele, others
that Zeus swallowed it; in either case, it gave rise to the second
birth of Dionysus. The tearing of a wild animal and the de-
vouring of its raw flesh by Bacchae was supposed to re-enact
the tearing and eating of Dionysus by the Titans, and the animal,
in some* sense, was an incarnation of the god. The Titans were

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

earth-born, but after eating the god they had a spark of divinity.
So man is partly of earth, partly divine, and Bacchic rites sought
to make him more nearly completely divine.

Euripides puts a confession into the mouth of an Orphic priest,
which is instructive:1

Lord of Europa's Tynan line,

Zeus-born, who boldest at thy feet
The hundred citadels of Crete,

I seek to Thee from that dim shrine,

Roofed by the Quick and Can-en Beam,
By Chalyb steel and wild bull's blood.
In flawless joints of Cypress wood

Made steadfast. There is one pun- stream

My days have run. The sen ant I,
Initiate, of Idaean Jove;2
Where midnight Zagrcus8 rove?, 1 rove;

I have endured his thunder-cry ;

Fulfilled his red and bleeding feasts ;

Held the Great Mother's mountain flame,
I am set free and named by name

A Bacchos of the Mailed Priests.

Robed in pure white I have borne me clean
From man's vile birth and coihned clay,
And exiled from my lip ahvay

Touch of all meat where Life hath been.

Orphic tablets have been found in tombs, giving instructions to
the soul of the dead person as to how to find his way in the
next world, and what to say in order to prove himself \\orthy of
salvation. They are broken and incomplete; the most nearly
complete (the Petelia tablet) is as follows:

Thou shalt find on the left of the House of Hades a Well-spring,
And by the side thereof standing a white cypress.
To this well-spring approach not near.

1 The verse translations in thii chapter are by Profc-wor Gilbert
Murray.

1 Mystically idmtifad with Dionysu*,
* One of thr many narn* * of I )ionysu*.

THE RISE OF GREEK CIVILIZATION

But thou shalt find another by the Lake of Memory,

Cold water flowing forth, and there are Guardians before it,

Say: "I am a child of Earth and of Starry Heaven;

Hut my race is of Heaven (alone). This ye know yourselves.

And lo, I am parched with thirst and I perish. Give me quickly

The cold water flowing forth from the Lake of Memory."

And of themselves they will give thee to drink from the holy

well-spring,
And thereafter among the other heroes thou shalt have lordship. . . .

Another tablet says: — "Hail, Thou who hast suffered the suffer-
ing . . . Thou art become (Jod from Man." And yet in another: —
"Happy and Blessed One, thou shalt be God instead of mortal."

The well-spring of which the soul is not to drink is Ix?the, which
brings forgetfulness; the other well-spring is Mnemosyne, re-
membrance. The soul in the next world, if it is to achieve salva-
tion, is not to forget, but, on the contrary, to acquire a memory
surpassing what is natural.

The Orphics were an ascetic sect; wine, to them, was only a
symbol, as, later, in the Christian sacrament. The intoxication that
they sought was that of "enthusiasm," of union with the god. They
believed themselves, in this way, to acquire mystic knowledge not
obtainable by ordinary means. This mystical element entered into
( Jreek philosophy with Pythagoras, who was a reformer of Orphism
as Orpheus was a reformer of the religion of Dionysus. From
Pythagoras Orphic elements entered into the philosophy of Plato,
and from Plato into most later philosophy that was in any degree
religious.

Certain definitely Bacchic elements survived wherever Orphism
had influence. One of these was frrrriism, of which there was
much in Pythagoras, and which, in Plato, went so far as to claim
complete political equality for women. "Women as a sex," says
Pythagoras, "are more naturally akin to piety." Another Bacchic
element was respect for violent emotion. Greek tragedy grew out
of the rites of Dionysus. Euripides, especially, honoured the two
chief gods of Orphism, Dionysus and Kros. He has no respect for
the coldly self-righteous well-behaved man, who, in his tragedies,
is apt to be driven mad or otherwise brought to grief by the gods
in resentment of his blasphemy.

'I 'he conventional tradition concerning the Greeks is that they
exhibited an admirable serenity, which enabled them to contcm-

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

plate passion from without, perceiving whatever beauty it exhibited
but themselves calm and Olympian. This is a very one-sided view.
It is true, perhaps, of Homer, Sophocles, and Aristotle, but it is
emphatically not true of those Greeks who were touched, directly
or indirectly, by Bacchic or Orphic influences. At Klcusis, where
the Eleusinian mysteries formed the most sacred part of Athenian
State religion, a hymn was sung, saying:

With Thy wine-cup waving high,
With Thy maddening revelry,
To Klcusis' flower}' vale,
Comest Thou— Bacchus, Paean, hail!

In the Bacchae of Euripides, the chorus of Maenads displays a
combination of poetry and savagery which is the very reverse of
serene. They celebrate the delight in tearing a wild anirnal limb
from limb, and eating it raw then and there:

O glad, glad on the Mountains
To swoon in the race outworn,
When the holy fawn-skin clings

And all else sweeps away,
To the joy of the quick red fountains,
The blood of the hill-goat torn,
The glory of wild-beast ravening*

Where the hill-top catches the day,
To the Phrygian, Lydian mountains
'Tis ISromios leads the way.

(Bromios was another of the many names of Dionysus.) The dance
of the Maenads on the mountain side was not only fierce; it was
an escape from the burdens and cares of civilization into the world
of non-human beauty and the freedom of wind and stars. In a less
frenzied mood they sing:

Will they ever come to me, ever again,

The long, long dances,
On through the dark till the dim stars wane ?
Shall I feel the dew on my throat, and the stream
Of wind in my hair ? Shall our white feet gleam

In the dim expanses?
O feet of the fawn to the greenwood fled,

Alone in the grass and the loveliness ;
[>eap of the hunted, no more in dread,

Beyond the snares and the deadly press.

THE RISE OF GREEK CIVILIZATION

Yet a voice still in the distance sounds,
A voice and a fear and a haste of hounds,
O wildly labouring, fiercely fleet,

Onward yet by river and glen —
Is it joy or terror, ye storm-swift/eel?

To the dear lone lands untroubled of men,
Where no voice sounds, and amidfthe shadowy green
The little things of the woodland (live unseen.

Before repeating that the Greeks were "serene," try to imagine
the matrons of Philadelphia behaving in ti<js manner, even in a
play by Eugene O'Neill.

The Orphic is no more "serene" than tl» unrefr i«ed woift
shipper of Dionysus. To the Orphic, life in th* world is pain and
weariness. We are bound to a J -heel which t^rns through endless
cycles of birth and death; our true life is tfhe stars, but we are
tied to earth. Only by purification and renunciation and an ascetic
life can we escape from the wheel and attain at last to the ecstasy
of union with God. This is not the view of men to whom life is
easy and pleasant. It is more like the Negro spiritual:

I'm going to tell God all of my troubles
When I get home.

Not all of the Greeks, hut a large proportion of them, were
passionate, unhappy, at war with themselves, driven along one
road by the intellect and along another by the passions, with the
imagination to conceive heaven and the wilful self-assertion that
creates hell. They had a maxim "nothing too much," but they
were in fact excessive in everything — in pure thought, in poetry,
in religion, and in sin. It was the combination of passion and
intellect that made them great, while they were great. Neither
alone would have transformed the world for all future time as
they transformed it. Their prototype in mythology is not
Olympian Zeus, but Prometheus, who brought fire from heaven
and was rewarded with eternal torment.

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

this latter tendency; so do the earliest Ionian philosophers; so,
up to a point, does Aristotle. Beloch (op. cit.f I, i, p. 434), after
describing Orphism, says:

"But the Greek nation was too full of youthful vigour for the
general acceptance of a belief which denies this world and transfers
real life to the Beyond. Accordingly the Orphic doctrine remained
confined to the relatively narrow circle of the initiate, without
acquiring the smallest influence on the State religion, not even in
communities which, like Athens, had taken up the celebration of
the mysteries into the State ritual and placed it under legal pro-
tection. A full millennium was to pass before these ideas— in a
quite different theological dress, it is true — achieved victory in
the Greek world/1

It would seem that this is an overstatement, particularly as
regards the Eleusinian mysteries, which were impregnated with
Orphism. Broadly speaking, those who were of a religious tem-
perament turned to Orphism, while rationalists despised it. One
might compare its status to that of Methodism in England in the
late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries.

We know more or less what an educated Greek learnt from his
father, but we know very little of what, in his earliest years, he
learnt from his mother, who was, to a great extent, shut out from
the civilization in which the men took delight. It seems probable
that educated Athenians, even in the best period, however
rationalistic they may have been in their explicitly conscious
mental processes, retained from tradition and from childhood a
more primitive way of thinking and feeling, which was always
liable to prove victorious in times of stress. For this reason, no
simple analysis of the Greek outlook is likely to be adequate.

The influence of religion, more particularly of non-Olympian
religion, on Greek thought was not adequately recognized until
recent times. A revolutionary book, Jane Harrison's Prolegomena
to the Study of Greek Religion, emphasized both the primitive and
the Dionysiac elements in the religion of ordinary Greeks; F. M.
Cornford's From Religion to Philosophy tried to make students of
Greek philosophy aware of the influence of religion on the philo-
sophers, but cannot be wholly accepted as trustworthy in many
of its interpretations, or, for that matter, in its anthropology.1 The

1 On the other hand Cornford's books on various Platonic dialogues
seem to me wholly admirable.

THE RISE OF GREEK CIVILIZATION

most balanced statement known to me is in John Burnet's Early
Greek Philosophy, especially chapter ii, "Science and Religion." A
conflict between science and religion arose, he says, out of "the
religious revival which swept over Hellas in the sixth century B.C.,"
together with the shifting of the scene from Ionia to the West.
"The religion of continental Hellas," he ssi^s, "had developed in
a very different way from that of Ionia. In particular, the worship
of Dionysus, which came from Thrace, and is barely mentioned
in Homer, contained in germ a wholly new way of looking at man's
relation to the world. It would certainly b& wrong to credit the
Thracians themselves with any very exalted wews; but there can
be no doubt that, to the Greeks, the phenomenon of ecstasy
suggested that the soul was something more than a feeble double
of the self, and that it was only when 'out of the body* that it
could show its true nature. . . .

44 It looked as if Greek religion were about to enter on the same
stage as that already reached by the religions of the East; and, but
for the rise of science, it is hard to see what could have checked
this tendency. It is usual to say that the Greeks were saved from
a religion of the Oriental type by their having no priesthood; but
this is to mistake the effect for the cause. Priesthoods do not make
dogmas, though they preserve them once they are made; and in
the earlier stages of their development, the Oriental peoples had
no priesthoods either in the sense intended. It was not so much
the absence of a priesthood as the existence of the scientific
schools that saved Greece.

"The new religion— for in one sense it was new, though in
another as old as mankind — reached its highest point of develop-
ment with the foundation of the Orphic communities. So far as
\ve can see, the original home of these was Attica; but they spread
with extraordinary rapidity, especially in Southern Italy and Sicily.
They were first of dl associations for the worship of Dionysus;
but they were distinguished by two features which were new
among the Hellenes. They looked to a revelation as the source
of religious authority, and they were organized as artificial com-
munities. The poems which contained their theology were
ascribed to the Thracian Orpheus, who had himself descended
into Hades, and was therefore a safe guide through the perils
which beset the disembodied soul in the next world."

Hurried goes on to state that there is a striking similarity between

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

Orphic beliefs and those prevalent in India at about the same time,
though he holds that there cannot have been any contact. He then
comes on to the original meaning of the word "orgy," which was
Mc*vUV *.tiA O*"hics to mean "sacrament," and was intended to
general acceptance o* Soul and enable it to escape from the wheel
reallifetotheBeyond.es, unlike the priests of Olympian cults,
confined to the relatmcall "churches/1 i.e. religious communities
acquiring the smallest ithout distinction of race or sex, could be
communities which, liHf and from their influence arose the con-
the mysteries into th^ as a way of life.
" - A full millc
*+ ther

Chapter II
THE MILESIAN SCHOOL

IN every history of philosophy for studenftf, the first thing men-
tioned is that philosophy began witWi hales, who said that
everything is made of water. Thi$ is discouraging to the
beginner, who is struggling — perhaps not very hard — to feel that
respect for philosophy which the curriculum seems to expect.
There is, however, ample reason to feel respkct for Thales, though
perhaps rather as a man of science than as 11 nhiloson' sitfrfws?*
modern sense of the word.

Thales was a native of Miletus, in Asia Minor, a flourishing
commercial city, in which there was a large slave population, and
a bitter class struggle between the rich and poor among the free
population. "At Miletus the people were at first victorious and
murdered the wives and children of the aristocrats; then the
aristocrats prevailed and burned their opponents alive, lighting
up the open spaces of the city with live torches/'1 Similar con-
ditions prevailed in most of the Greek cities of Asia Minor at the
time of Thales.

Miletus, like other commercial cities of Ionia, underwent im-
portant economic and political developments during the seventh
and sixth centuries. At first, political power belonged to a land-
owning aristocracy, but this was gradually replaced by a pluto-
cracy of merchants. They, in turn, were replaced by a tyrant,
who (as was usual) achieved power by the support of the demo-
cratic party. The kingdom of Lydia lay to the east of the Greek
coast towns, but remained on friendly terms with them until the
fall of Nineveh (6oO B.C.). This left Lydia free to turn its attention
to the West, but Miletus usually succeeded in preserving friendly
relations, especially with Croesus, the last Lydian king, who was
conquered by Cyrus in 546 B.C. There were also important rela-
tions with Egypt, where the king depended upon Greek mer-
cenaries, and had opened certain cities to Greek trade. The first
Greek settlement in Egypt was a fort occupied by a Milesian
garrison; but the most important, during the period 610-560 B.C.,
was Daphnac. Here Jeremiah and many other Jewish fugitives
v, History of the Ancient World, Vol. I, p. 204.

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

took refuge from Nebuchadrezzar (Jeremiah xliii. 5 If.); but while
Egypt undoubtedly influenced the Greeks, the Jews did not, nor
can we suppose that Jeremiah felt anything but horror towards
the sceptical lonians.

As regards the u2te of Thales, the best evidence, as we saw, is
that he was famous for predicting an eclipse which, according to
the astronomers, must have taken place in 585 B.C. Other evidence,
such as it is, agrees in placing his activities at about this time. It
is no proof of extraordinaiT genius on his part to have predicted
an eclipse. Miletus wao allied with Lydia, and Lydia had cultural
relations with Babylonia, and Babylonian astronomers had dis-
covered tV't eclipses recur in a cycle of about nineteen years.
They could predict eclipses of the moon with pretty complete
success, but as regards solar eclipses they were hampered by the
fact that an eclipse may be visible in one place and not in another.
Consequently they could only know that at such and such a date
it was worth while to look out for an eclipse, and this is probably
all that Thales knew. Neither he nor they knew why there is
this cycle.

Thales is said to have travelled in Kgypt, and to have thence
brought to the Greeks the science of geometry. What the Egyptians
knew of geometry was mainly rules of thumb, and there is no
reason to believe that Thales arrived at deductive proofs, such as
later Greeks discovered. He seems to have discovered how to
calculate the distance of a ship at sea from observations taken at
two points on land, and how to estimate the height of a pyramid
from the length of its shadow. Many other geometrical theorem*
are attributed to him, but probably wrongly.

He was one of the Seven Wise Men of Greece, each of whom
was specially noted for one wise saying; his, it is a niiM.tke to
suppose, was "water is best."

According to Aristotle, he thought that water is the original
substance, out of which all others are funned ; and he maintained
that the earth rests on water. Aristotle also says of him that he
said the magnet has a soul in it, because it moves the iron ; further,
that all things arc full of gods.1

The statement that everything is made of water is to be regarded
as a scientific hypothesis, arid by no means a foolish one. Twenty
years ago, the received view was that everything is made of

1 Burnct (Early Gteck Philotophy, p. 51) questions tins last * tying.

THE MILESIAN SCHOOL

hydrogen, which is two thirds of water. The Greeks were rash
in their hypotheses, but the Milesian school, at least, was prepared
to test them empirically. Too little is known of Thales to make it
possible to reconstruct him at all satisfactorily, but of his successors
in Miletus much more is known, and it is re^n5^C5nTRM2flfe%^
that something of their outlook came from Jround table, and that
his philosophy were both crude, but they ifsoul, being air, holds
both thought and observation. /$ass the whole world."

There are many legends about him, 'ft

known than the few facts I have mentidquity than Anaximander,
are pleasant, for instance, the one told by like the opposite valua-
(1259*): "lie was reproached for his poverty, ^Koras and Sjyjftji0*1
to show that philosophy is of no use. According to fKe story, he
knew by his skill in the stars while it was yet winter that there
would be a great harvest of olives in the corning year; so, having
a little money, he gave deposits for the use of all the olive-presses
in Chios and Miletus, which he hired at a low price because no
one bid against him. When the harvest time came, and many
were wanted all at once and of a sudden, he let them out at any
rate which he pleased, and made a quantity of money. Thus he
showed the world that philosophers can easily be rich if they like,
but that their ambition is of another sort."

Anaximander, the second philosopher of the Milesian school,
is much more interesting than Thales. His dates are uncertain,
but he was said to have been sixty-four years old in 546 B.C., and
there is reason to suppose that this is somewhere near the truth.
He held that all things come from a single primal substance, but
that it is not water, as Thales held, or any other of the substances
that we know. It is infinite, eternal and ageless, and "it encom-
passes all the worlds" — for he thought our world only one of
many. The primal substance is transformed into the various sub-
stances witii which we are familiar, and these are transformed
into each other. As to this, he makes an important and remarkable
statement :

"Into that from which things take their rise they pass away once
more, as is ordained, for they make reparation and satisfaction to
one another for their injustice according to the ordering of time."

The idea of justice, both cosmic and human, played a part in
(irerk religion Und philosophy which is not altogether easy for a
modern to understand ; indeed our word "justice" hardly expresses

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

what is meant, but it is difficult to find any other word that would
be preferable. The thought which Anaximander is expressing
seems to be this: there should be a certain proportion of fire, of
earth, and of water in the world, but each element (conceived as a
^AsVegardslhe <j£ttcmPting to enlarge its empire. But there is
that he was famous itPatu1ral h* whfich Perpetually redresses the
the astronomers, must K* been fire, for example, there are ashes,
such as it is, agrees in pl:?cePtlon of justice-of not overstepping
is no proof of extraordinaif. one of the most Profound of Greek
an eclipse. Miletus wao "»ubJect to Justlce Just » much as men
relations with BabyJo* Power was not itself personal, and was

.. . a oUfr.i,.,, ec|j -

Anaximander had an argument to prove that the primal sub-
stance could not be water, or any other known element. If one of
these were primal, it would conquer the others. Aristotle reports
him as saying that these knovrn elements are in opposition to one
another. Air is cold, water is moist, and fire is hot. "And therefore,
if any one of them were infinite, the rest would have ceased to be
by this time." The primal substance, therefore, must be neutral
in this cosmic strife.

There was an eternal motion, in the course of which was
brought about the origin of die worlds. The worlds were not
created, as in Jewish or Christian theology, but evolved. There
was evolution also in the animal kingdom. Living creatures arose
from the moist element as it was evaporated by the sun. Man,
like every other animal, was descended from fishes. He must be
derived from animals of a different sort, because, owing to his
long infancy, he could not have survived, originally, as he is now.

Anaximander was full of scientific curiosity. I !e is said to have
been the first man who made a map. He held tliat the earth is
shaped like a cylinder. He is variously reported as saying the sun
is as large as the earth, or twenty-seven times as large, or twenty-
eight times as large.

Wherever he is original, he is scientific and rationalistic.

Anaximenes, the last of the Milesian triad, is not quite so
interesting as Anaximander, but makes some important advances.
His dates are very uncertain. He was certainly subsequent to
Anaximander, and he certainly flourished before 494 B.C., since
in that year Miletus was destroyed by the Persians in the course
of their suppression of the Ionian revolt.

THE MILESIAN SCHOOL

The fundamental substance, he said, is air. The soul is air; fire
is rarefied air; when condensed, air becomes first water, then, if
further condensed, earth, and finally stone. This theory has the
merit of making all the differences between different substances
quantitative, depending entirely upon the

He thought that the earth is shaped like a j Ol c?? and t^at
air encompasses everything: "Just as oui|fPunc* . e*. ^olds
us together, so do breath and air encope3TsOU^ '3el^g1 ' rM"
It seems that the world breathes. |$ass the whole wor .

Anaximenes was more admired in ant*/ "mander,

though almost any modern world would hfluity than Anaxi yajua.
tion. He had an important influence on Pytfcte ^ °PP°j?lQn tnuch
subsequent speculation. The Pythagoreans Tdflporas *? oiat the
earth is spherical, but the atomists adhered to the view of Anaxi-
menes, that it is shaped like a disc.

The Milesian school is important,, not for what it achieved, but
for what it attempted. It was brought into existence by the contact
of the Greek mind with Babylonia and Egypt. Miletus was a rich
commercial city, in which primitive prejudices and superstitions
were softened by intercourse with many nations. Ionia, until its
subjugation by Darius at the beginning of the fifth century, was
culturally the most important part of the Hellenic world. It was
almost untouched by the religious movement connected with
Dionysus and Orpheus; its religion was Olympic, but seems to
have been not taken very seriously. The speculations of Thales,
Anaximander, and Anaximenes are to be regarded as scientific
hypotheses, and seldom show any undue intrusion of anthropo-
morphic desires and moral ideas. The questions they asked were
good questions, and their vigour inspired subsequent investigators.

The next stage in Greek philosophy, which is associated with
the Greek cities in southern Italy, is more religious, and, in
particular, more Orphic — in some ways more interesting, admir-
able in achievement, but in spirit less scientific than that of the
Milesians.

Chapter III
PYTHAGORAS

PYTHAGORAS, whose influence in ancient and modern times
is my subject ins^his chapter, was intellectually one of the
most important *J.sn that ever lived, both when he was
wise and when he was . mwise. Mathematics, in the sense of
demonstrative deductive argument, begins with him, and in him
is intimately connected with a peculiar form of mysticism.
The influence of mathematics on philosophy, partly owing
to him, has, ever since his time, been both profound and
unfortunate.

Let us begin with what little is known of his life. He was a
native of the island of Samos, and flourished about 532 B.C.
Some say he was the son of a substantial citizen named Mnesarchos,
others that he was the son of the «?od Apollo ; I leave the reader to
take his choice between these alternatives. In his time Samos was
ruled by the tyrant Polycrates, an old ruffian who became im-
mensely rich, and had a vast navy.

Samos was a commercial rival of Miletus; its traders went as
far afield as Tartessus in Spain, which was famous for its mines.
Polycrates became tyrant of Samos about 535 B.C., and reigned
until 515 B.C. He was not much troubled by moral scruples; he
got rid of his two brothers, who were at first associated with him
in the tyranny, and he used his navy largely for piracy. 1 le profited
by the fact that Miletus had recently submitted to Persia. In order
to obstruct any further westward expansion of the Persians, he
allied himself with Amasis, king of Egypt. But when Cambyses,
king of Persia, devoted his full energies to the conquest of Egypt,
Polycrates realized that he was likely to win, and changed sides.
He sent a fleet, composed of his political enemies, to attack Egypt ;
but the crews mutinied and returned to Samos to attack him.
He got the better of them, however, but fell at last by a treacherous
appeal to his avarice. The Persian satrap at Sardes represented
that he intended to rebel against the Great King, and would pay
vast sums for the help of Polycrates, who went to the mainland
for an interview, was captured and crucified. *

Polycrates was a patron of the arts, and beautified Samps with

PYTHAGORAS

remarkable public works. Anacreon was his court poet. Pythagoras,
however, disliked his government, and therefore left Samos. It is
said, and is not improbable, that Pythagoras visited Egypt, and
learnt much of his wisdom there; however that may be, it is
certain that he ultimately established himself at Croton, in
southern Italy.

The Greek cities of southern Italy, like Samos and Miletus,
were rich and prosperous; moreover they were not exposed to
danger from the Persians.1 The two greatest were Sybaris and
Croton. Sybaris has remained proverbial for luxury; its popula-
tion, in its greatest days, is said by Diodorus to have amounted to
300,000, though this is no doubt an exaggeration. Croton was
about equal in sixc to Sybaris. Both cities lived by importing
Ionian wares into Italy, partly for consumption in that country,
partly for re-export from the western coast to Gaul and Spain.
The various Greek cities of Italy fought each other fiercely; when
Pythatroras arrived in Croton, it had just been defeated by Locri.
Soon after his arrival, however, Croton was completely victorious
in a war against Sybaris, which was utterly destroyed (510 B.C.).
Sybaris had been closely linked in commerce with Miletus. Croton
was famous for medicine ; a certain Democedes of Croton became
physician to Polycrates and then to Darius.

At t'roton Pythagoras founded a society of disciples, which for
a time was influential in that city. But in the end the citizens
turned against him, and he moved to Metapontion (also in southern
Italy), where he died. He soon became a mythical figure, credited
with miracles and niapic powers, but he was also the founder of a
school of mathematicians." Thus two opposing traditions disputed
his memory, and the truth is hard to disentangle.

l*ythagoras is one of the most interesting and puzzling men in
history. Not only are the traditions concerning him an almost
inextricable mixture of truth and falsehood, but even in their
barest and least disputable form they present us with a very
curious psychology. He may be described, briefly, as a combina-
tion of Einstein and Mrs. Eddy. He founded a religion, of which

1 The (irrck cities of Sicily were in danger from the Carthaginians,
but in Italy this danger was not felt to be imminent.

* Aristotle ftays of him that he "first worked at mathematics and
arithmetic, and u&T\viirdH, at one time, condescended to the wonder-
working Qjroetised by I'herecydes."

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

The changes in the meanings of words are often very instructive.
I spoke above about the word "orgy"; now I want to speak about
the word "theory." This was originally an Orphic word, which
Cornford interprets as "passionate sympathetic contemplation."
In this state, he says. "The spectator is identified with the suffering
Cod, dies in his death, and rises again in his new birth." For
Pythagoras, the "passionate sympathetic contemplation" was
intellectual, and issued in mathematical knowledge. In this way,
through Pythagoreanism, "theory" gradually acquired its modern
meaning; but for all who were inspired by Pythagoras it retained
an element of ecstatic revelation. To those who have reluctantly
learnt a little mathematics in school this may seem strange; but
to those who have experienced the intoxicating delight of sudden
understanding that mathematics gives, from time to time, to those
who love it, the Pythagorean view will seem completely natural
<rven if untrue. It might seem that the empirical philosopher is
the slave of his material, but that the pure mathematician, like
the musician, is a free creator of his world of ordered beauty.

It is interesting to observe, in liurnct's account of the Pytha-
gorean ethic, the opposition to modern values. In connection with
a football match, modern-minded men think the players grander
than the mere spectators. Similarly as regards the State: they
admire more the politicians who are the contestants in the jrame
than those who are only onlookers. This change of values is con-
nected with a change in the social system — the warrior, the
gentleman, the plutocrat, and the dictator, each has his own
standard of the |?ood and the true. The gentleman has had a lonj:
inninps in philosophical theory, because he is associated with the
Greek genius, because the virtue of contemplation acquired
theological endorsement, and because the ideal of disinterested
truth dignified the academic life. The gentleman is to be defined
as one of a society of equals who live on slave labour, or at any
rate upon the labour of men whose inferiority is unquestioned.
It should be observed that this definition includes the saint and
the sage, insofar as these men's lives are contemplative rather
than active.

Modern definitions of truth, such as those of pragmatism and
instrumentalism, which are practical rather than contemplative,
are inspired by industrialism as opposed to aristocracy.

Whatever may be thought of a social system which f tolerates

PYTHAGORAS

slavery, it is to gentlemen in the above sense that we owe pure
mathematics. The contemplative ideal, since it led to the creation
of pure mathematics, was the source of a useful activity; this
increased its prestige, and gave it a success in theology, in
ethics, and in philosophy, which it might not otherwise have
enjoyed.

So much by way of explanation of the two aspects of Pythagoras :
as religious prophet and as pure mathematician. In both respects
he was immeasurably influential, and the two were not so separate
as they seem to a modern mind.

Most sciences, at their inception, have been connected with
some form of false belief, which gave them a fictitious value.
Astronomy was connected with astrology, chemistry with alchemy.
Mathematics was associated with a more refined type of error.
Mathematical knowledge appeared to be certain, exact, and appli-
cable to the real world; moreover it was obtained by mere thinking,
without the need of observation. Consequently, it was thought to
supply an ideal, from which every-day empirical knowledge fell
short. It was supposed, on the basis of mathematics, that thought
is superior to sense, intuition to observation. If the world of sense
does not fit mathematics, so much the worse for the world of
sense. In various ways, methods of approaching nearer to the
mathematician's ideal were sought, and the resulting suggestions
were the source of much that was mistaken in metaphysics and
theory of knowledge. This form of philosophy begins with
Pythagoras.

Pythagoras, as everyone knows, said that "all things are
numbers." This statement, interpreted in a modern way, is
logically nonsense, but what he meant was not exactly nonsense.
1 le discovered the importance of numbers in music, and the con-
nection which he established between music and arithmetic sur-
vives in the mathematical terms "harmonic mean*' and "harmonic
progression." He thought of numbers as shapes, as they appear
on dice or playing cards. We still speak of squares and cubes of
numbers, which are terms that we owe to him. He also spoke of
oblong numbers, triangular numbers, pyramidal numbers, and so
on. These were the numbers of pebbles (or, as we should more
naturally say, shot) required to make the shapes in question. He
presumably thotight of the world as atomic, and of bodies as built
up of lyolcculcs composed of atoms arranged in various shapes.

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

In this way he hoped to make arithmetic the fundamental study
in physics as in aesthetics.

The greatest discovery of Pythagoras, or of his immediate dis-
ciples, was the proposition about right-angled triangles, that the
sum of the squares on the sides adjoining the right angle is equal
to the square on the remaining side, the hypotenuse. The Egyptians
had known that a triangle whose sides are 3, 4, 5 has a right angle,
but apparently the Greeks were the first to observe that 3a -f 4'-
= 52, and, acting on this suggestion, to discover a proof of the
general proposition.

Unfortunately for Pythaponis, his theorem led at once to the
discovery of incommcnsurables, which appeared to disprove his
whole philosophy. In a rijjht-angled isosceles triangle, the square
on the hypotenuse is double of the square on either side. Let us
suppose each side an inch long ; then how long is the hypotenuse ?
Let us suppose its length is mfn inches. Then w2/;i2 ~ 2. If m
and n have a common factor, divide it out, then either tn or n
must be odd. Now w2 = 2«2, therefore m8 is even, therefore m is
even, therefore n is odd. Suppose m -•- 2p. Then 4/>2 = 2«2, there-
fore, »2 = 2/>2 and therefore ;/ is even, contra hyp. Therefore no
fraction m'n will measure the hypotenuse. The above proof is
substantially that in Euclid, Book X.1

This argument proved that, whatever unit of length we may
adopt, there are lengths which bear no exact numerical relation
to the unit, in the sense that there are no two integers iw, «, such
that m times the length in question is n times the unit. This con-
vinced the Greek mathematicians that geometry must be estab-
lished independently of arithmetic. There are passapcs in Plato's
dialogues which prove that the independent treatment of geo-
metry was well under way in his day; it is perfected in Euclid.
Euclid, in Book II, proves geometrically many things which we
should naturally prove by algebra, such as (a -{- bf -~~ a1 + zah
+ A2. It was because of the difficulty about incommensurable*
that he considered this course necessary. The same applies to his
treatment of proportion in Books V and VJ. The whole system
is logically delightful, and anticipates the rigour of nineteenth-
century mathematicians. So long as no adequate arithmetical theory
of incommensurable^ existed, the method of Euclid was the Inrst

* But not by Euclid. See Heath, Gftek Mathtirutlici. The above proof
was probably known to Plato.

PYTHAGORAS

that was possible in geometry. When Descartes introduced co-
ordinate geometry, thereby again making arithmetic supreme, he
assumed the possibility of a solution of the problem of incom-
mensurables, though in his day no such solution had been
found.

The influence of geometry upon philosophy and scientific
method has been profound. Geometry, as established by the
Greeks, starts with axioms which are (or are deemed to be) self-
evident, and proceeds, by deductive reasoning, to arrive at
theorems that are very far from self-evident. The axioms and
theorems arc held to be true of actual space, which is something
given in experience. It thus appeared to be possible to discover
things about the actual world by first noticing what is self-evident
and then using deduction. This view influenced Plato and Kant,
and most of the intermediate philosophers. When the Declaration
of Independence says "we hold these truths to be self-evident,"
it is modelling itself on Euclid. The eighteenth-century doctrine
of natural rights is a search for Euclidean axioms in politics.1
The form of Newton's Principia, in spite of its admittedly empirical
material, is entirely dominated by Euclid. Theology, in its exact
scholastic forms, takes its style from the same source. Personal
religion is derived from ecstasy, theology from mathematics; and
both arc to be found in Pythagoras.

Mathematics is, I believe, the chief source of the belief in
eternal and exact truth, as well as in a super-sensible intelligible
\\orld. Geometry deals with exact circles, but no sensible object
is exactly circular; however carefully we may use our compasses,
there will be some imperfections and irregularities. This suggests
the view that all exact reasoning applies to ideal as opposed to
sensible objects; it is natural to go further, and to argue that
thought is nobler than sense, and the objects of thought more
real than those of sense-perception. Mystical doctrines as to the
relation of time to eternity are also reinforced by pure mathe-
matics, for mathematical objects, such as numbers, if real at all,
are eternal and not in time. Such eternal objects can be conceived
as God's thoughts. Hence Plato's doctrine that God is a geometer,
and Sir James Jeans' belief that He is addicted to arithmetic.
Rationalistic as opposed to apocalyptic religion has been, ever

1 "Self-evident** was substituted by Franklin for Jefferson's "sacred
and undeniable."

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

since Pythagoras, and notably ever since Plato, very completely
dominated by mathematics and mathematical method.

The combination of mathematics and theology, which began
with Pythagoras, characterized religious philosophy in Greece, in
the Middle Ages, and in modern times down to Kant. Orphism
before Pythagoras was analogous to Asiatic mystery religions. But
in Plato, St. Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, Descartes, Spinoza,
and Leibniz there is an intimate blending of religion and reasoning,
of moral aspiration with logical admiration of what is timeless,
which comes from Pythagoras, and distinguishes the intellec-
tualized theology of Europe from the more straightforward
mysticism of Asia. It is only in quite recent times that it has been
possible to say clearly where Pythagoras was wrong. 1 do not
know of any other man who has been as influential as he was in
the sphere of thought. I say this because what appears as Platonism
is, when analysed, found to be in essence Pythagoreanism. The
whole conception of an eternal world, revealed to the intellect
but not to the senses, is derived from him. But for him, Christians
would not have thought of Christ as the Word; but for him,
theologians would not have sought logical proofs of Mod and
immortality. But in him all this is still implicit. I low it became
explicit will appear as we proceed.

Chapter IV
HERACLITUb

Two opposite attitudes towards the Greeks are common
at the present day. One, which was practically universal
from the Renaissance until very recent times, views the
Greeks with almost superstitious reverence, as the inventors of
all that is best, and as men of superhuman genius whom the
moderns cannot hope to equal. The other attitude, inspired by
the triumphs of science and by an optimistic belief in progress,
considers the authority of the ancients an incubus, and maintains
that most of their contributions to thought are now best forgotten.
1 cannot myself take either of these extreme views; each, I should
say, is partly right and partly wrong. Before entering upon any
detail, I shall try to say what sort of wisdom we can still derive
from the study of Greek thought.

As to the nature and structure of the world, various hypotheses
are possible. Progress in metaphysics, so far as it has existed, has
consisted in a gradual refinement of all these hypotheses, a develop-
ment of their implications, and a reformulation of each to meet
the objections urged by adherents of rival hypotheses. To learn
to conceive the universe according to each of these systems is an
imaginative delight and an antidote to dogmatism. Moreover,
even if no one of the hypotheses can be demonstrated, there is
genuine knowledge in the discovery of what is involved in making
each of them consistent with itself and with known facts. Now
almost all the hypotheses that have dominated modern philo-
sophy were first thought of by the Greeks; their imaginative
inventiveness in abstract matters can hardly be too highly praised.
What 1 shall have to say about the Greeks will be said mainly
from this point of view; I shall regard them as giving birth to
theories which have had an independent life and growth, and
which, though at first somewhat infantile, have proved capable
of surviving and developing throughout more than two thousand
years.

The Greeks contributed, it is true, something else which proved
of more permanent value to abstract thought: they discovered
mathematics and the art of deductive reasoning. Geometry, in

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

particular, is a Greek invention, without which modern science
would have been impossible. But in connection with mathematics
the one-sidedness of the Greek genius appears : it reasoned deduc-
tively from what appeared self-evident, not inductively from what
had been observed. Its amazing successes in the employment
of this method misled not only the ancient world, but the greater
part of the modern world also. It has only been very slowly that
scientific method, which seeks to reach principles inductively
from observation of particular facts, has replaced the Hellenic
belief in deduction from luminous axioms derived from the mind
of the philosopher. For this reason, apart from others, it is a
mistake to treat the Greeks with superstitious reverence. Scientific
method, though some few among them were the first men who
had an inkling of it, is, on the whole, alien to their temper of mind,
and the attempt to glorify them by belittling the intellectual
progress of the last four centuries has a cramping effect upon
modern thought.

There is, however, a more general argument against reverence,
whether for the Greeks or for anyone else. In studying a philo-
sopher, the right attitude is neither reverence nor contempt, but
first a kind of hypothetical sympathy, until it is possible to know
what it feels like to believe in his theories, and only then a revival
of the critical attitude, which should resemble, as far as possible,
the state of mind of a person abandoning opinions which hr has
hitherto held. Contempt interferes with the first part of this
process, and reverence with the second. Two things are to be
remembered: that a man whose opinions and theories are worth
studying may be presumed to have had some intelligence, but
that no man is likely to have arrived at complete and final truth
on any subject whatever. When an intelligent man expresses
a view which seems to us obviously absurd, \ve should not attempt
to prove that it is somehow true, but we should try to understand
how it ever came to seem true. This exercise of historical and
psychological imagination at once enlarges the scope of our
thinking, and helps us to realize how foolish many of our own
cherished prejudices will seem to an age which has a different
temper of mind.

Between Pythagoras and Heraclitus, with whom we shall be
concerned in this chapter, there was another philosopher, of less im-
portance, namely Xenophancs. His date is uncertain, and 's mainly

HERACLJTUS

determined by the fact that he alludes to Pythagoras and Hera-
clitus alludes to him. He was an Ionian by birth, but lived most
of his life in southern Italy. He believed all things to be made
out of earth and water. As regards the gods he was a very emphatic
free thinker. "Homer and Hesiod have ascribed to the gods all
things that are a shame and a disgrace among mortals, stealings
and adulteries and deccivings of one another. . . . Mortals deem
that gods are begotten as they are, and have clothes like theirs,
and voice and form . . . yes, and if oxen and horses or lions had
hands, and could paint with their hands, and produce works of
art as men do, horses would paint the forms of gods like horses,
and oxen like oxen, and make their bodies in the image of their
several kinds. . . . The Ethiopians make their gods black and
snub-nosed ; the Thracians say theirs have blue eyes and red hair."
He believed in one God, unlike men in form and thoupht, who
"without toil swayeth all things by the force of his mind." Xeno-
phanes made fun of the Pythagorean doctrine of transmigration.
"Once, they say, he (Pythagoras) was passing by when a dog was
being ill-treated. *Stop,' he said, 'don't hit it! It is the soul of
a friend ! I knew it when I heard its voice/ " He believed it
impossible to ascertain the truth in matters of theology. "The
certain truth there is no man who knows, nor ever shall be, about
the pods and all the things whereof I speak. Yea, even if a man
should chance to say something utterly right, still he himself
knows it not — there is nowhere anything but guessing."1

Xenophanes has his place in the succession of rationalists, who
were opposed to the mystical tendencies of Pythagoras and others,
but as an independent thinker he is not in the first rank.

The doctrine of Pythagoras, as we saw, is very difficult to
disentangle from that of his disciples, and although Pythagoras
himself is very early, the influence of his school is mainly sub-
sequent to that of various other philosophers. The first of these
to invent a theory which is still influential was Heraclitus, who
flourished about 500 B.C. Of his life very little is known, except
that he was an aristocratic citizen of Ephesus. He was chiefly
famous in antiquity for his doctrine that everything is in a state
of flux, but this, as we shall see, is only one aspect of his meta-
physics.

iieraciitus, though an Ionian, was not in the scientific tradition

* (Juotnl from Kdwyn itevan, Stoic t an d Sceptics, Oxford, 1913, p. 121.

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

of the Milesians.1 He was a mystic, but of a peculiar kind. He
regarded fire as the fundamental substance ; everything, like flame
in a fire, is born by the death of something else. "Mortals are
immortals, and immortals are mortals, the one living the other's
death and dying the other's life." There is unity in the world,
but it is a unity formed by the combination of opposite?. "All
things come out of the one, and the one out of all things'1; but
the many have less reality than the one, which is God.

From what survives of his writings he does not appear as an
amiable character. He was much addicted to contempt, and was
the reverse of a democrat. Concerning his fellow-citizens, he
says: "The Kphesians would do well to hane themselves, even-
grown man of them, and leave the city to beardless lads; for they
have cast out Hermodorus, the best man among them, saying:
'We will have none who is best among us; if there be any such,
let him be so elsewhere and among others.' " He speaks ill of
all his eminent predecessors, with a single exception. "Homer
should be turned out of the lists and whipped." "Of all whose
discourses I have heard, there is not one who attains to under-
standing that wisdom is apart from all." "The learning of many
things teachelh not understanding, else would it have taught
Hesiod and Pythagoras, and again Xenophanes and Hecataeus."
"Pythagoras . . . claimed for his own wisdom what was but a
knowledge of many things and an art of mischief." The one
exception to his condemnations is Tcutamus, who is signalled
out as "of more account than the rest." When we inquire the
reason for this praise, we find that Tcutamus said "most men
are bad."

His contempt for mankind leads him to think that only force
will compel them to act for their own good. He says: "livery beast
is driven to the pasture with blows"; and again: "Asses would
rather have straw than gold."

As might be expected, Heraclitus believes in war. "War," he
says, "is the father of all and the king of all; and some he has
made gods and some men, some bond and some free." Again:
"Homer was wrong in saying: * Would that strife might perish
from among gods and men!' He did not see that he was praying
for the destruction of the universe; for, if his prayer were heard,

1 Comfofd, op. rit. (p. 184), ernphasixrs this, I think rightly. Herat liru»
is often misunderstood through I>CWK aasimilatrd to other lonmns.

HERACLITUS

all things would pass away." And yet again: "We must know
that war is common to all and strife is justice, and that all things
come into being and pass away through strife."

His ethic is a kind of proud asceticism, very similar to Nietzsche's,
lie regards the soul as a mixture of fire and water, the fire being
noble and the water ignoble. The soul that has most fire he
calls "dry." "The dry soul is the wisest and best." "It is pleasure
to souls to become moist." "A man, when he gets drunk, is led
by a beardless lad, tripping, knowing not where he steps, having
his soul moist." "It is death to souls to become water." "It is
hard to fight with one's heart's desire. Whatever it wishes to
get, it purchases at the cost of soul." "It is not good for men to
get all that they wish to get." One may say that Heraclitus values
power obtained through self-mastery, and despises the passions
that distract men from their central ambitions.

The attitude of Heraclitus to the religions of his time, at any
rate the Bacchic religion, is largely hostile, but not with the
hostility of a scientific rationalist. He has his own religion, and
in part interprets current theology to fit his doctrine, in part
rejects it with considerable scorn. He has been called Bacchic
(by C'ornforti), and regarded as an interpreter of the mysteries
(by Pfieiderer). I do not think the relevant fragments bear out
this view. He says, for example: "The mysteries practised among
men arc unholy mysteries/' This suggests that he had in mind
possible mysteries that would not be "unholy," but would be
quite different from those that existed. He would have been a
religious reformer, if he had not been too scornful of the vulgar
to engage in propaganda.

The following are all the extant sayings of Heraclitus that bear
on his attitude to the theology of his day.

The Lord whose is the oracle of Delphi neither utters nor hides
his meaning, but shows it by a sign.

And the Sibyl, with raving lips uttering things mirthless, un-
bedi/cnetl and unpei fumed, reaches over a thousand years with
her \oice, thanks to the god in her.

Souls smell in Hades.

(Jieater deaths win greater portions. (Those who die them
become gods.)

Night-\valk(TS,*mairicians, priests of Bacchus, and priestesses of
the wine^val, mystery-mongers.

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

The mysteries practised among men are unholy mysteries.

And they pray to these images, as if one were to talk with a
man's house, knowing not what gods or heroes are.

For if it were not to Dionysus that they made a procession and
sang the shameful phallic hymn, they would be acting most
shamelessly. But Hades is the same as Dionysus in whose honour
they go mad and keep the feast of the wine-vat.

They vainly purify themselves by defiling themselves with
blood, just as if one who had stepped into the mud were to wash
his feet in mud. Any man who marked him doing this, would
deem him mad.

Heraclitus believed fire to be the primordial element, out of
which everything else had arisen. Thales, the reader will remember,
thought everything was made of water; Anaximenes thought air
was the primitive element; Heraclitus preferred fire. At last
Empedocles suggested a statesmanlike compromise by allowing
four elements, earth, air, fire and water. The chemistry of the
ancients stopped dead at this point. No further progress was made
in this science until the Mohammedan alchemists embarked
upon their search for the philosopher's stone, the elixir of life,
and a method of transmuting base metals into gold.

The metaphysics of Heraclitus are sufficiently dynamic to
satisfy the most hustling of moderns :

"This world, which is the same for all, no one of gods or men
has made; but it was ever, is now, and ever shall be an ever-living
Fire, with measures kindling and measures going out.*'

"The transformations of Fire are, first of all, sea; and half of
the sea is earth, half whirlwind."

In such a world, perpetual change was to be expected, ami
perpetual change was what Heraclitus believed in.

He had, however, another doctrine on which he set even more
store than on the perpetual flux; this was the doctrine of the
mingling of opposites. "Men do not know," he says, "how what
is at variance agrees with itself. It is an attunement of opposite
tensions, like that of the bow and the lyre." His belief in strife
is connected with this theory, for in strife opposites combine to
produce a motion which is a harmony. There is a unity in the
world, but it is a unity resulting from diversity:

"Couples are things whole and things not whole, what is drawn
together and what is drawn asunder, the harmonious an^I the dis-

HERACLITUS

cordant. The one is made up of all things, and all things issue
from the one."

Sometimes he speaks as if the unity were more fundamental
than the diversity :

"Good and ill are one/1

"To God all things are fair and good and right, but men hold
some things wrong and some right."

"The way up and the way down is one and the same."

"God is day and night, winter and summer, war and peace,
surfeit and hunger; but he takes various shapes, just as fire, when
it is mingled with spices, is named according to the savour of each."

Nevertheless, there would be no unity if there were not opposites
to combine: "it is the opposite which is good for us."

This doctrine contains the germ of Hegel's philosophy, which
proceeds by a synthcsi/ing of opposites.

The metaphysics of Ileraclitus, like that of Anaximander, is
dominated by a conception of cosmic justice, which prevents the
strife of opposites from ever issuing in the complete victory of
cither.

"All things are an exchange for Fire, and Fire for all things,
even as wares for gold and gold for wares."

"Fire lives the death of air, and air lives the death of fire; water
lives the death of earth, earth that of water."

"The sun will not overstep his measures ; if he does, the Erinyes,
the handmaids of Justice, will find him out."

"We must know that war is common to all, and strife is justice."

Ileraclitus repeatedly speaks of "God" as distinct from "the
gods." "The way of man has no wisdom, but that of God has. . . .
Man is called a baby by God, even as a child by a man. . . . The
wisest man is an ape compared to God, just as the most beautiful
ape is ugly compared to man."

God, no doubt, is the embodiment of cosmic justice.

The doctrine that everything is in a state of flux is the most
famous of the opinions of Ileraclitus, and the one most emphasized
by his disciples, as described in Plato's Theaetetus.

"You cannot step twice into the same river; for fresh waters
are ever flowing in upon you."1

"The sun is ne^w every day."

1 But cf. *'\Ve step and do not step into the same rivers: we are, and
are not/' *•

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

His belief in universal change is commonly supposed to have
been expressed in the phrase "all things are flowing/1 but this is
probably apocryphal, like Washington's "Father, I cannot tell a
lie" and Wellington's "Up Guards and at 'em." His words, like
those of all the philosophers before Plato, are only known through
quotations, largely made by Plato or Aristotle for the sake of
refutation. When one thinks what would become of any modern
philosopher if he were only known through the polemics of his
rivals, one can see how admirable the pre-Socratics must have
been, since even through the mist of malice spread by their
enemies they still appear great. However this may be, Plato and
Aristotle agree that Heraclitus taught that "nothing ever is,
everything is becoming" (Plato), and that "nothing steadfastly is"
(Aristotle).

I shall return to the consideration of this doctrine in connection
with Plato, who is much concerned to refute it. For the present, I
shall not investigate what philosophy has to say about it, but
only what the poets have felt and the men of science have taught.

The search for something permanent is one of the deepest of
the instincts leading men to philosophy. It is derived, no doubt,
from love of home and desire for a refuge from danger; we find,
accordingly, that it is most passionate in those whose lives are
most exposed to catastrophe. Religion seeks permanence in two
forms, God and immortality. In God is no variableness neither
shadow of turning; the life after death is eternal and unchanging.
The cheerfulness of the nineteenth century turned men against
these static conceptions, and modern liberal theology believes
that there is progress in heaven and evolution in the Godhead.
But even in this conception there is something permanent, namely
progress itself and its immanent goal. And a dose of disaster is
likely to bring men's hopes back to their older super-terrestrial
forms: if life on earth is despaired of, it is only in heaven that
peace can be sought.

The poets have lamented the power of Time to sweep away
every object of their love.

Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth,
And delves the parallels in beauty 'a brow,
Feeds on the rarities of nature's trurn,
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow.

HERACLITUS

They generally add that their own verses are indestructible:

And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand.
Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.

But this is only a conventional literary conceit.

Philosophically inclined mystics, unable to deny that whatever
is in time is transitory, have invented a conception of eternity as
not persistence through endless time, but existence outside the
whole temporal process. Eternal life, according to some theologians,
for example, Dean Inge, does not mean existence throughout
every moment of future time, but a mode of being wholly inde-
pendent of time, in which there is no before and after, and there-
fore no logical possibility of change. This view has been poetically
expressed by Vaughan :

I saw Eternity the other night,
Like a great ring of pure and endless light,

All calm, as it was bright;
And round beneath it, Time in hours, days, years,

Driven by the spheres
Like a vast shadow moved ; in which the world

And all her train were hurled.

Several of the most famous systems of philosophy have tried
to state this conception in sober prose, as expressing what reason,
patiently pursued, will ultimately compel us to believe.

Heraclitus himself, for all his belief in change, allowed something
everlasting. The conception of eternity (as opposed to endless
duration), which comes from Parmenides, is not to be found in
Heraclitus, but in his philosophy the central fire never dies: the
world "was ever, is now, and ever shall be, an ever-living Fire/'
But fire is something continually changing, and its permanence is
rather that of a process than that of a substance — though this view
should not be attributed to Heraclitus.

Science, like philosophy, has sought to escape from the doctrine
of perpetual flux by finding some permanent substratum amid
changing phenomena. Chemistry seemed to satisfy this desire. It
was found that fire, which appears to destroy, only transmutes:
elements are recombined, but each atom that existed before com-
bustion still exists when the process is completed. Accordingly it
was supposed that atoms arc indestructible, and that all change
in the physical world consists merely in re-arrangement of per-

65 C

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

sistent elements. This view prevailed until the discovery of radio-
activity, when it was found that atoms could disintegrate.

Nothing daunted, the physicists invented new and smaller units
called electrons and protons, out of which atoms were composed ;
and these units were supposed, for a few years, to have the in-
destructibility formerly attributed to atoms. Unfortunately it
seemed that protons and electrons could meet and explode,
forming, not new matter, but a wave of energy spreading through
the universe with the velocity of light. Energy had to replace
matter as what is permanent. But energy, unlike matter, is not a
refinement of the common-sense notion of a "thing"; it is merely
a characteristic of physical processes. It might be fancifully
identified with the Heraclitean Fire, but it is the burning, not
what burns. "What burns" has disappeared from modern physics.

Passing from the small to the large, astronomy no longer allows
us to regard the heavenly bodies as everlasting. The planets came
out of the sun, and the sun came out of a nebula. It has lasted
some time, and will last some time longer; but sooner or later —
probably in about a million million years — it will explode, destroy-
ing all the planets. So at least the astronomers say; perhaps as
the fatal day draws nearer they will find some mistake in their
calculations.

The doctrine of the perpetual flux, as taught by Heraclitus, is
painful, and science, as we have seen, can do nothing to refute it.
One of the main ambitions of philosophers has been to revive
hopes that science seemed to have killed. Philosophers, accordingly,
have sought, with great persistence, for something not subject to
the empire of Time. This search begins with Parmenidcs.

Chapter V
PARMENIDES

THE Greeks were not addicted to moderation, cither in
their theories or in their practice. Heraclitus maintained
that everything changes; Parmenides retorted that nothing
changes.

Parmenides was a native of Elea, in the south of Italy, and
flourished in the first half of the fifth century B.C. According to
Plato, Socrates in his youth (say about the year 450 B.C.) had an
interview with Parmenides, then an old man, and learnt much
from him. Whether or not this interview is historical, we may at
least infer, what is otherwise evident, that Plato himself was
influenced by the doctrines of Parmenides. The south Italian and
Sicilian philosophers were more inclined to mysticism and religion
than those of Ionia, who were on the whole scientific and sceptical
in their tendencies. But mathematics, under the influence of
Pythagoras, flourished more in Magna Graecia than in Ionia;
mathematics at that time, however, was entangled with mysticism.
Parmenides was influenced by Pythagoras, but the extent of this
influence is conjectural. What makes Parmenides historically
important is that he invented a form of metaphysical argument
that, in one form or another, is to be found in most subsequent
metaphysicians down to and including Hegel. He is often said to
liave invented logic, but what he really invented was metaphysics
based on logic.

The doctrine of Parmenides was set forth in a poem On Nature.
He considered the senses deceptive, and condemned the multitude
of sensible things as mere illusion. The only true being is "the
One/' which is infinite and indivisible. It is not, as in Heraclitus,
a union of opposites, since there are no opposites. He apparently
thought, for instance, that "cold" means only "not hot," and
"dark" means only "not light." "The One" is not conceived by
Parmenides as we conceive God ; he seems to think of it as material
and extended, for he speaks of it as a sphere. But it cannot be
divided, because the whole of it is present everywhere.

Parmenides dk'ides his teaching into two parts, called respec-
tively "the way of truth" and "the way of opinion." We need not

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

sistent elements. This view prevailed until the discovery of radio-
activity, when it was found that atoms could disintegrate.

Nothing daunted, the physicists invented new and smaller units,
called electrons and protons, out of which atoms were composed ;
and these units were supposed, for a few years, to have die in-
destructibility formerly attributed to atoms. Unfortunately it
seemed that protons and electrons could meet and explode,
forming, not new matter, but a wave of energy spreading through
the universe with the velocity of light. Energy had to replace
matter as what is permanent. But energy, unlike matter, is not a
refinement of the common-sense notion of a "thing"; it is merely
a characteristic of physical processes. It might be fancifully
identified with the Heraclitean Fire, but it is the burning, not
what burns. "What burns" has disappeared from modern physics.

Chapter V
PARMENIDES

THE Greeks were not addicted to moderation, either in
their theories or in their practice. Heraclitus maintained
that everything clianges; Parmenides retorted that nothing
changes.

Parmenides was a native of Elea, in the south of Italy, and
flourished in the first half of the fifth century B.C. According to
Plato, Socrates in his youth (say about the year 450 B.C.) had an
interview with Parmenides, then an old man, and learnt much
from him. Whether or not this interview is historical, we may at
least infer, what is otherwise evident, that Plato himself was
influenced by the doctrines of Parmenides. The south Italian and
Sicilian philosophers were more inclined to mysticism and religion
than those of Ionia, who were on the whole scientific and sceptical
in their tendencies. But mathematics, under the influence of
Pythagoras, flourished more in Magna Graecia than in Ionia;
mathematics at that time, however, was entangled with mysticism.
Parmenides was influenced by Pythagoras, but the extent of this
influence is conjectural. What makes Parmenides historically
important is that he invented a form of metaphysical argument
that, in one form or another, is to be found in most subsequent
metaphysicians down to and including Hegel. He is often said to
have invented logic, but what he really invented was metaphysics
based on logic.

The doctrine of Parmenides was set forth in a poem On Nature,
lie considered the senses deceptive, and condemned the multitude
of sensible things as mere illusion. The only true being is "the
One,1' which is infinite and indivisible. It is not, as in Heraclitus,
a union of opposites, since there are no opposites. He apparently
thought, for instance, that "cold" means only "not hot," and
"dark" means only "not light." "The One" is not conceived by
Parmenides as we conceive God ; he seems to think of it as material
and extended, for he speaks of it as a sphere. But it cannot be
divided, because the whole of it is present everywhere.

Parmenides divides his teaching into two parts, called respec-
tively "the way of truth19 and "the way of opinion." We need not

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

concern ourselves with the latter. What he says about the way of
truth, so far as it has survived, is, in its essential points, as
follows:

"Thou canst not know what is not — that is impossible — nor
utter it; for it is the same thing that can be thought and that
can be."

"How, then, can what is be going to be in the future? Or how
could it come into being? If it came into being, it is not; nor is it
if it is going to be in the future. Thus is becoming extinguished and
passing away not to be heard of.

"The thing that can be thought and that for the sake of which
the thought exists is the same ; for you cannot find thought without
something that is, as to which it is uttered."1

The essence of this argument is: When you think, you think of
something; when you use a name, it must be the name of some-
thing. Therefore both thought and language require objects out-
side themselves. And since you can think of a thing or speak of it
at one time as well as at another, whatever can be thought of or
spoken of must exist at all times. Consequently there can be no
change, since change consists in things coming into being or
ceasing to be.

This is the first example in philosophy of an argument from
thought and language to the world at large. It cannot of course
be accepted as valid, but it is worth while to see what element of
truth it contains.

We can put the argument in this way: if language is not just
nonsense, words must mean something, and in general they must
not mean just other words, but something that is there whether
we talk of it or not. Suppose, for example, that you talk of George
Washington. Unless there were a historical person who had that
name, the name (it would seem) would be meaningless, and
sentences containing the name would be nonsense. Parmenides
maintains that not only must George Washington have existed in
the past, but in some sense he must still exist, since we can still
use his name significantly. This seems obviously untrue, but
how are we to get round the argument ?
Let us take an imaginary person, say Hamlet. Consider the

1 Burnet'i note : "The meaning, I think, it this. 4 . . There can be
no thought corresponding to a name that i» not the name of something
real." '

PARMENIDES

statement "Hamlet was Prince of Denmark." In some sense this
is true, but not in the plain historical sense. The true statement is
"Shakespeare says that Hamlet was Prince of Denmark," or, more
explicitly, "Shakespeare says there was a Princ'e of Denmark
called 'Hamlet.' " Here there is no longer anything imaginary.
Shakespeare and Denmark and the noise "Hamlet" are all real,
but the noise "Hamlet" is not really a name, since nobody is really
called "Hamlet." If you say " 'Hamlet* is the name of an imaginary
person," that is not strictly correct; you ought to say "It is ima-
gined that 'Hamlet' is the name of a real person."

Hamlet is an imagined individual; unicorns are an imagined
species. Some sentences in which the word "unicorn" occurs are
true, and some are false, but in each case not directly. Consider
"a unicorn has one horn" and "a cow has two horns." To prove
the latter, you have to lopk at a cow ; it is not enough to say that
in some book cows are said to have two horns. But the evidence
that unicorns have one horn is only to be found in books, and in
fact the correct statement is: "Certain books assert that there are
animals with one horn called 'unicorns/ " All statements about
unicorns are really about the word "unicorn," just as all statements
about Hamlet are really about the word "Hamlet."

But it is obvious that, in most cases, we are not speaking of
words, but of what the words mean. And this brings us back to
the argument of Parmenides, that if a word can be used signifi-
cantly it must mean something, not nothing, and therefore what
the word means must in some sense exist.

What, then, are we to say about George Washington ? It seems
we have only two alternatives: one is to say that he still exists; the
other is to say that, when we use the words "George Washington,"
we are not really speaking of the man who bore that name. Either
seems a paradox, but the latter is less of a paradox, and I shall
try to show a sense in which it is true.

Parmenides assumes that words have a constant meaning; this
is really the basis of his argument, which he supposes unquestion-
able. But although the dictionary or the encyclopaedia gives what
may be called the official and socially sanctioned meaning of a
word, no two people who use the same word have just the same
thought in their minds.

George Washington himself could use his name and the word
"I" as synonyms. He could perceive his own thoughts and the

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

movements of his body, and could therefore use his name with a
fuller meaning than was possible for any one else. His friends,
when in his presence, could perceive the movements of his body,
and could divine his thoughts; to them, the name "George
Washington" still denoted something concrete in their own
experience. After his death they had to substitute memories for
perceptions, which involved a change in the mental processes
taking place when they used his name. For us, who never knew
him, the mental processes are again different. We may think of
his picture, and say to ourselves "yes, that man." We may think
"the first President of the United States." If we are very ignorant,
he may be to us merely "The man who was called * George
Washington.' " Whatever the name suggests to us, it must be not
the man himself, since we never knew him, but something now
present to sense or memory or thought. This shows the fallacy of
the argument of Parmenides.

This perpetual change in the meanings of words is concealed
by the fact that, in general, the change nukes no difference to the
truth or falsehood of the propositions in which the words occur.
If you take any true sentence in which the name "George Washing-
ton" occurs, it will, as a rule, remain true if you substitute the
phrase "the first President of the United States." There are ex-
ceptions to this rule. Before Washington's election, a man might
say "I hope George Washington will be the first President of the
United States," but he would not say "I hope the first President
of the United States will be the first President of the United
States" unless he had an unusual passion for the law of identity.
But it is easy to make a rule for excluding these exceptional cases,
and in those that remain you may substitute for "George Washing-
ton" any descriptive phrase that applies to him alone. And it is
only by means of such phrases that we know what we know about
him.

Parmenides contends that, since we can now know what is com-
monly regarded as past, it cannot really be past, but must, in some
sense, exist now. Hence he infers that there is no such thing as
change. What we have been saying about George Washington
meets this argument. It may be said, in a sense, that we have no
knowledge of the past. When you recollect, the recollection occurs
now, and is not identical with the event recollected. But the re-
collection affords a description of the past event, and for most

PARMENIOES

practical purposes it is unnecessary to distinguish between the
description and what it describes.

This whole argument shows how easy it is to draw metaphysical
conclusions from language, and how the only way to avoid
fallacious arguments of this kind is to push the logical and psy-
chological study of language further than has been done by most
metaphysicians.

I think, however, that, if Parmenides could return from the dead
and read what I have been saying, he would regard it as very super-
ficial. "How do you know," he would ask, "that your statements
about George Washington refer to a past time? By your own
account, the direct reference is to things now present; your recol-
lections, for instance, happen now, not at the time that you think
you recollect. If memory is to be accepted as a source of knowledge,
the past must be before the mind now, and must therefore in some
sense still exist/'

I will not attempt to meet this argument now ; it requires a dis-
cussion of memory, which is a difficult subject. I have put the
argument here to remind the reader that philosophical theories,
if they are important, can generally be revived in a new form after
being refuted as originally stated. Refutations are seldom final;
in most cases, they are only a prelude to further refinements.

What subsequent philosophy, down to quite modern times,
accepted from Parmenides. was not the impossibility of all change,
which was too violent a paradox, but the indestructibility of sub-
it once. The word "substance" did not occur in his immediate
successors, but the concept is already present in their speculations.
A substance was supposed to be the persistent subject of varying
predicates. As such it became, and remained for more than two
thousand years, one of the fundamental concepts of philosophy,
psychology, physics, and theology. I shall have much to say about
it at a later stage. For the present, I am merely concerned to note
that it was introduced as a way of doing justice to the arguments
of Parmenides without denying obvious facts.

Chapter VI
EMPEDOCLES

E • IHE mixture of philosopher, prophet, man of science, and
I charlatan, which we found already in Pythagoras, was ex-
JL emplified very completely in Empedocles, who flourished
about 440 B.C., and was thus a younger contemporary of Par-
menides, though his doctrine had in some ways more affinity with
that of Heraclitus. He was a citizen of Acragas, on the south coast
of Sicily; he was a democratic politician, who at the same time
claimed to be a god. In most Greek cities, and especially in those
of Sicily, there was a constant conflict between democracy and
tyranny; the leaders of whichever party was at the moment
defeated were executed or exiled. Those who were exiled seldom
scrupled to enter into negotiations with the enemies of Greece —
Persia in the East, Carthage in the West. Empedocles, in due
course, was banished, but he appears, after his banishment, to
have preferred the career of a sage to that of an intriguing refugee.
It seems probable that in youth he was more or less Orphic ; that
before his exile he combined politics and science; and that it
was only in later life, as an exile, that he became a prophet.

Legend had much to say about Empedocles. He was supposed
to have worked miracles, or what seemed such, sometimes by
magic, sometimes by means of his scientific knowledge. He could
control the winds, we are told; he restored to life a woman who
had seemed dead for thirty days; finally, it is said, he died by
leaping into the crater of Etna to prove that he was a god. In the
words of the poet :

Great Empedocles, that ardent soul,
Leapt into Etna, and was roasted whole.

Matthew Arnold wrote a poem on this subject, but, although one
of his worst, it does not contain the above couplet.

Like Parmenides, Empedocles wrote in verse. Lucretius, who
was influenced by him, praised him highly as a poet, but on this
subject opinions were divided. Since only fragments of his writings
have survived, his poetic merit must remain in doubt.

It is necessary to deal separately with his science and his religion,

BMPEDOCLBS

as they are not consistent with each other. I shall consider first
his science, then his philosophy, and finally his religion.

His most important contribution to science was his discovery of
air as a separate substance. This he proved by the observation that
when a bucket or any similar vessel is put upside down into water,
the water does not enter into the bucket. He says:

"When a girl, playing with a water-clock of shining brass, puts
the orifice of the pipe upon her comely hand, and dips the water-
clock into the yielding mass of silvery water, the stream does not
then flow into the vessel, but the bulk of the air inside, pressing
upon the close-packed perforations, keeps it out till she uncovers
the compressed stream ; but then air escapes and an equal volume
of water runs in."

This passage occurs in an explanation of respiration.

He also discovered at least one example of centrifugal force:
that if a cup of water is whirled round at the end of a string, the
water does not come out.

He knew that there is sex in plants, and he had a theory (some-
what fantastic, it must be admitted) of evolution and the survival
of the fittest. Originally, "countless tribes of mortal creatures were
scattered abroad endowed with all manner of forms, a wonder to
behold." There were heads without necks, arms without shoulders,
eyes without foreheads, solitary limbs seeking for union. These
things joined together as each might chance ; there were shambling
creatures with countless hands, creatures with faces and breasts
looking in different directions, creatures with the bodies of oxen
and the faces of men, and others with the faces of oxen and the
bodies of men. There were hermaphrodites combining the natures
of men and women, but sterile. In the end, only certain forms
survived.

As regards astronomy: he knew that the moon shines by re-
flected light, and thought that this is also true of the sun; he said
that light takes time to travel, but so little time that we cannot
observe it; he knew that solar eclipses are caused by the inter-
position of the moon, a fact which he seems to have learnt from
Anaxagoras.

He was the founder of the Italian school of medicine, and the
medical school which sprang from him influenced both Plato and
Aristotle. According to Burnet (p. 234), it affected the whole
tendency pf scientific and philosophical thinking.

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

All this shows the scientific vigour of his time, which was not
equalled in the later ages of Greece.

I come now to his cosmology. It was he, as already mentioned,
who established earth, air, fire, and water as the four elements
(though the word "element" was not used by him). Each of these
was everlasting, but they could be mixed in different proportions
and thu» produce the changing complex substances that we find
in the world. They were combined by Love and separated by
Strife. Love and Strife were, for Empedocles, primitive substances
on a level with earth, air, fire, and water. There were periods when
Love was in the ascendant, and others when Strife was the stronger.
There had been a golden age when Love was completely vic-
torious. In that age, men worshipped only the Cyprian Aphrodite
(fr. 128). The changes in the world are not governed by any
purpose, but only by Chance and Necessity. There is a cycle:
when the elements have been thoroughly mixed by Love, Strife
gradually sorts them out again; when Strife has separated them,
Love gradually reunites them. Thus even- compound substance
is temporary; only the elements, together with Love and Strife,
are everlasting.

There is a similarity to Heraclitus, but a softening, since it is
not Strife alone, but Strife and Love together, that produce
change. Plato couples Heraclitus and Empedocles in the
Sophist (242):

There are Ionian, and in more recent time Sicilian, muses, who
have arrived at the conclusion that to unite the two principles (of
the One and the Many), is safer, and to say that being is one and
many, and that these are held together by enmity and friendship,
ever parting, ever meeting, as the severer Muses assert, while the
gentler ones do not insist on the perpetual strife and peace, but
admit a relaxation and alternation of them; peace and unity
sometimes prevailing under the sway of Aphrodite, and then
again plurality and war, by reason of a principle of strife.

Empedocles held that the material world is a sphere ; that in the
Golden Age Strife was outside and Love inside ; then, gradually,
Strife entered and Love was expelled, until, at the worst, Strife
will be wholly within and Love wholly without the sphere. Then
— though for what reason is not clear — an opposite movement
begins, until the Golden Age returns, but not for ever. The whole
cycle is then repeated. One might have supposed \hat either

EMPEDOCLES

extreme could be stable, but that is not the view of Empedocles.
He wished to explain motion while taking account of the argu-
ments of Parmenides, and he had no wish to arrive, at any stage,
at an unchanging universe.

The views of Empedocles on religion are, in the main, Pytha-
gorean. In a fragment which, in all likelihood, refers to Pythagoras,
he says: "There was among them a man of rare knowledge, most
skilled in all manner of wise works, a man who had won the
utmost wealth of wisdom ; for whensoever he strained with all his
mind, he easily saw everything of all the things that are, in ten,
yea twenty lifetimes of men." In the Golden Age, as already
mentioned, men worshipped only Aphrodite, "and the altar did
not reek with pure bull's blood, but this was held in the greatest
abomination among men, to eat the goodly limbs after tearing out
the life."

At one time he speaks of himself exuberantly as a god:

Friends, that inhabit the great city looking down on the yellow
rock of Acragas, up by the citadel, busy in goodly works, harbour
of honour for the stranger, men unskilled in meanness, all hail. I
go about among you an immortal god, no mortal now, honoured
among all as is meet, crowned with fillets and flowery garlands.
Straightway, whenever I enter with these in my train, both men
and women, into the flourishing towns, is reverence done me; they
go after me in countless throngs, asking of me what is the way to
gain; some desiring oracles, while some, who for many a weary
day have been pierced by the grievous pangs of all manner
of sickness, beg to hear from me the word of healing. . . . But why
do I harp on these things, as if it were any great matter that I
should surpass mortal, perishable men?"

At another time he feels himself a great sinner, undergoing
expiation for his impiety:

There is an oracle of Necessity, an ancient ordinance of the gods,
eternal and sealed fast by broad oaths, that whenever one of the
daemons, whose portion is length of days, has sinfully polluted his
hands with blood, or followed strife and forsworn himself, he
must wander thrice ten thousand years from the abodes of the
blessed, being born throughout the time in all manners of mortal
forms, changing jme toilsome path of life for another. For the
mighty Air drives him into the Sea, and the Sea spews him forth
upon the. dry Earth; Earth tosses him into the beams of the

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

blazing Sun, and he flings him back to the eddies of Air. One takes
him from the other, and all reject him. One of these I now am,
an exile and a wanderer from the gods, for that I put my trust
in an insensate strife.

What his sin had been, we do not know; perhaps nothing that
we should think very grievous. For he says :

"Ah, woe is me that the pitiless day of death did not destroy
me ere ever I wrought evil deeds of devouring with my lips 1 ...

"Abstain wholly from laurel leaves . . .

"Wretches, utter wretches, keep your hands from beans!"

So perhaps he had done nothing worse than munching laurel
leaves or guzzling beans.

The most famous passage in Plato, in which he compares this
world to a cave, in which we sec only shadows of the realities in
the bright world above, is anticipated by Empedoclcs; its origin
is in the teaching of the Orphics.

There are some — presumably those who abstain from sin
through many incarnations— who at last achieve immortal bliss
in the company of the gods :

But at the last, they1 appear among mortal men as prophets,
song-writers, physicians, and princes ; and thence they rise up as
gods exalted in honour, sharing the hearth of the other gods and
the same table, free from human woes, safe from destiny, and in-
capable of hurt.

In all this, it would seem, there is very little that was not already
contained in the teaching of Orphism and Pythagoreanism.

The originality of Empedocies, outside science, consists in the
doctrine of the four elements, and in the use of the two principles
of Love and Strife to explain change.

He rejected monism, and regarded the course of nature as
regulated by chance and necessity rather than by purpose. In
these respects his philosophy was more scientific than those of
Parmenides, Plato, and Aristotle. In other respects, it is true, he
acquiesced in current superstitions; but in this he was no worse
than many more recent men of science.

1 It does not appear who "they" are, but one may assume that they are
those who have preserved purity.

Chapter VII
ATHENS IN RELATION TO CULTURE

E 1 1HE greatness of Athens begins at the time of the two
I Persian wars (490 B.C. and 480-79 B.C.). Before that time,

JL Ionia and Magna Graecia (the Greek cities of south Italy
and Sicily) produced the great men. The victory of Athens against
the Persian king Darius at Marathon (490), and of the combined
Greek fleets against his son and successor Xerxes (480) under
Athenian leadership, gave Athens great prestige. The lonians in
the islands and on part of the mainland of Asia Minor had rebelled
against Persia, and their liberation was effected by Athens after
the Persians had been driven from the mainland of Greece. In
this operation the Spartans, who cared only about their own
territory, took no part. Thus Athens became the predominant
partner in an alliance against Persia. By the constitution of the
alliance, any constituent State was bound to contribute either a
specified number of ships, or the cost of them. Most chose the
latter, and thus Athens acquired naval supremacy over the other
allies, and gradually transformed the alliance into an Athenian
Empire. Athens became rich, and prospered under the wise
leadership of Pericles, who governed, by the free choice of the
citizens, for about thirty years, until his fall in 430 B.C.

The age of Pericles was the happiest and most glorious time in
the history of Athens. Aeschylus, who had fought in the Persian
wars, inaugurated Greek tragedy; one of his tragedies, the Persae,
departing from the custom of choosing Homeric subjects, deals
with the defeat of Xerxes. He was quickly followed by Sophocles,
and Sophocles by Euripides. Both extend into the dark days of the
Peloponnesian War that followed the fall and death of Pericles*
and Euripides reflects in his plays the scepticism of the later
period. His contemporary Aristophanes, the comic poet, makes
fun of all isms from the standpoint of robust and limited common
sense; more particularly, he holds up Socrates to obloauv as one
who denies the existence of Zeus and dabbles in
scientific mysteries.

Athens had Mfen captured by Xerxes, ar
Acropoli^ had been destroyed by fire. Peric

'' WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

their reconstruction. The Parthenon and the other temples whose
ruins remain to impress our age were built by him. Pheidias the
sculptor was employed by the State to make colossal statues of
gods and goddesses. At the end of this period, Athens was the
most beautiful and splendid city of the Hellenic world.

Herodotus, the father of history, was a native of Halicarnassus,
in Asia Minor, but lived in Athens, was encouraged by the
Athenian State, and wrote his account of the Persian wars from
the Athenian point of view.

The achievements of Athens in the time of Pericles are perhaps
the most astonishing thing in all history. Until that time, Athens
had lagged behind many other Greek cities ; neither in art nor in
literature had it produced any great man (except Solon, who was
primarily a lawgiver). Suddenly, under the stimulus of victory
and wealth and the need of reconstruction, architects, sculptors,
and dramatists, who remain unsurpassed to the present day, pro-
duced works which dominated the future down to modern times.
This is the more surprising when we consider the smallness of
the population involved. Athens at its maximum, about 430 B.C.,
is estimated to have numbered about 230,000 (including slaves),
and the surrounding territory of rural Attica probably contained
a rather smaller population. Never before or since has anything
approaching the same proportion of the inhabitants of any area
shown itself capable of work of the highest excellence.

In philosophy, Athens contributes only two great names,
Socrates and Plato. Plato belongs to a somewhat later period, but
Socrates passed his youth and early manhood under Pericles. The
Athenians were sufficiently interested in philosophy to listen
eagerly to teachers from other cities. The Sophists were sought
after by young men who wished to torn the art of disputation;
in the Protagoras, the Platonic Socrates gives an amusing satirical
description of the ardent disciple** hanging on the words of the
eminent visitor. Pericles, as we shall see, imported Anaxagoras,
from whom Socrates professed to have learned the pre-eminence
of mind in creation.

Most of Plato's dialogues are supposed by him to take place
during the time of Pericles, and they give an agreeable picture of
life among the rich. Plato belonged to an aristocratic Athenian
family, and grew up in the tradition of the perioil before war and
democracy had destroyed the wealth and security of the upper

ATHENS IN RELATION TO CULTURE

classes. His young men, who have no need to work, spend most
of their leisure in the pursuit of science and mathematics and
philosophy; they know Homer almost by heart, and are critical
judges of the merits of professional reciters of poetry. The art
of deductive reasoning had been lately discovered, and afforded
the excitement of new theories, both true and false, over the whole
field of knowledge. It was possible in that age, as in few others,
to be both intelligent and happy, and happy through intelligence.

But the balance of forces which produced this golden age was
precarious. It was threatened both from within and from without
— from within by the democracy, and from without by Sparta.
To understand what happened after Pericles, we must consider
briefly the earlier history of Attica.

Attica, at the beginning of the historical period, was a self-
supporting little agricultural region; Athens, its capital, was not
large, but contained a growing population of artisans and skilled
artificers who desired to dispose of their produce abroad. Gradually
it was found more profitable to cultivate vines and olives rather
than grain, and to import grain, chiefly from the coast of the
Black Sea. This form of cultivation required more capital than
the cultivation of grain, and the small farmers got into debt.
Attica, like other Greek states, had been a monarchy in the
Homeric age, but the king became a merely religious official
without political power. The government fell into the hands of
the aristocracy, who oppressed both the country farmers and the
urban artisans. A compromise in the direction of democracy was
effected by Solon early in the sixth century, and much of his work
survived through a subsequent period of tyranny under Peisistratus
and his sons. When this period came to an end, the aristocrats,
as the opponents of tyranny, were able to recommend themselves
to the democracy. Until the fall of Pericles, democratic processes
gave power to the aristocracy, as in nineteenth-century England.
But towards the end of his life the leaders of the Athenian demo-
cracy began to demand a larger share of political power. At the
same time, his imperialist policy, with which the economic pros-
perity of Athens was bound up, caused increasing friction with
Sparta, leading at last to the Peloponnesian War (431-404), in
which Athens was completely defeated.

In spile of political collapse, the prestige of Athens survived,

and throughout almost a millennium philosophy was centred there.

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

Alexandria eclipsed Athens in mathematics and science, but Plato
and Aristotle had made Athens philosophically supreme. The
Academy, where Plato had taught, survived all other schools, and
persisted, as an island of paganism, for two centuries after the
conversion of the Roman Empire to Christianity. At last, in
A.D. 529, it was closed by Justinian because of his religious bigotry,
and the Dark Ages descended upon Europe.

Chapter VIII
ANAXAGORAS

P | IHE philosopher Anaxagoras, though not the equal of

I Pythagoras, Heraclitus, or Parmenides, has nevertheless

JL a considerable historical importance. He was an Ionian,

and carried on the scientific, rationalist tradition of Ionia. He was

the first to introduce philosophy to the Athenians, and the first

to suggest mind as the primary cause of physical changes.

He was born at Clazomenae, in Ionia, about the year 500 B.C.,
but he spent about thirty years of his life in Athens, approximately
from 462 to 432 B.C. He was probably induced to come by Pericles,
who was bent on civilizing his fellow-townsmen. Perhaps Aspasia,
who came from Miletus, introduced him to Pericles. Plato, in the
Phaedrus, says :

Pericles "fell in, it seems with Anaxagoras, who was a scientific
man ; and satiating himself with the theory of things on high, and
having attained to a knowledge of the true nature of intellect and
folly, which were just what the discourses of Anaxagoras were
mainly about, he drew from that source whatever was of a nature
to further him in the art of speech."

It is said that Anaxagoras also influenced Euripides, but this
is more doubtful.

'l*hc citizens of Athens, like those of other cities in other ages
and continents, showed a certain hostility to those who attempted
to introduce a higher level of culture than that to which they were
accustomed. When Pericles was growing old, his opponents began
a campaign against him by attacking his friends. They accused
Phcidias of embezzling some of the gold that was to be employed
on his statues. They passed a law permitting impeachment of
those who did not practise religion and taught theories about "the
things on high." Under this law, they prosecuted Anaxagoras,
who was accused of teaching that the sun was a red-hot stone
and the moon was earth. (The same accusation was repeated by
the prosecutors of Socrates, who made fun of them for being out
of date.) What happened is not certain, except that Anaxagoras
had to leave Athens. It seems probable that Pericles got him out

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

of prison and managed to get him away. He returned to Ionia,
where he founded a school. In accordance with his will, the
anniversary of his death was kept as a schoolchildren 's holiday.

Anaxagoras held that everything is infinitely divisible, and that
even the smallest portion of matter contains some of each element.
Things appear to be that of which they contain most. Thus, for
example, everything contains some fire, but we only call it fire if
that element preponderates. Like Empedocles, he argues against
the void, saying that the clepsydra or an inflated skin shows that
there is air where there seems to be nothing.

He differed from his predecessors in regarding mind (nous) as a
substance which enters into the composition of living things, and
distinguishes them from dead matter. In everything, he says, there
is a portion of everything except mind, and some things contain
mind also. Mind has power over all things that have life; it is
infinite and self-ruled, and is mixed with nothing. Except as
regards mind, everything, however small, contains portions of all
opposites, such as hot and cold, white and black. He maintained
that snow is black (in pan).

Mind is the source of all motion. It causes a rotation, which is
gradually spreading throughout the world, and is causing the
lightest things to go to the circumference, and the heaviest to fall
towards the centre. Mind is uniform, and is just as good in animals
as in man. Man's apparent superiority is due to the fact that he
has hands; all seeming differences of intelligence are really due
to bodily differences.

Both Aristotle and the Platonic Socrates complain that Anaxa-
goras, after introducing mind, makes very little use of it. Aristotle
points out that he only introduces mind as a cause when he knows
no other. Whenever he can, he gives a mechanical explanation.
He rejected necessity and chance as giving the origins of things ;
nevertheless, there was no "Providence" in his cosmology. He does
not seem to have thought much about ethics or religion ; probably
he was an atheist, as his prosecutors maintained. All his pre-
decessors influenced him, except Pythagoras. The influence of
Parmenides was the same in his case as in that of Empedocles.

In science he had great merit. It was he who first explained that
the moon shines by reflected light, though there is a cryptic frag-
ment in Parmenides suggesting that he also knew this. Anaxagoras
gave the correct theory of eclipses, and knew that the moon is

ANAXAGORAS

below the sun. The suri and stars, he said, are fiery stones, but we
do not feel the heat of the stars because they are too distant. The
sun is larger than the Peloponnesus. The moon has mountains,
and (he thought) inhabitants.

Anaxagoras is said to have been of the school of Anaximenes ;
certainly he kept alive the rationalist and scientific tradition of the
lonians. One does not find in him the ethical and religious pre-
occupations which, passing from the Pythagoreans to Socrates
and from Socrates to Plato, brought an obscurantist bias into
Greek philosophy. He is not quite in the first rank, but he is
important as the first to bring philosophy to Athens, and as one
of the influences that helped to form Socrates.

Chapter IX
THE ATOMISTS

} • IHE founders of atomism were two, Leucippus and Demo-

I critus. It is difficult to disentangle them, because they are

JL generally mentioned together, and apparently some of the

works of Leucippus were subsequently attributed to Democritus.

Leucippus, who seems to have flourished about 440 B.C.,1 came

from Miletus, and carried on the scientific rationalist philosophy

associated with that city. He was much influenced by Parmenides

and Zeno. So little is known of him that Epicurus (a later follower

of Democritus) was thought to have denied his existence altogether,

and some moderns have revived this theory. There are, however,

a number of allusions to him in Aristotle, and it seems incredible

that these (which include textual quotations) would have occurred

if he had been merely a myth.

Democritus is a much more definite figure. He was a native of
Abdera in Thrace; as for his date, he stated that he was young
when Anaxagoras was old, say about 432 B.C., and he is taken to
have flourished about 420 B.C. He travelled widely in southern
and eastern lands in search of knowledge ; he perhaps spent a con-
siderable time in Egypt, and he certainly visited Persia. He then
returned to Abdera, where he remained. Zeller calls him "superior
to all earlier and contemporary philosophers in wealth of know-
ledge, and to most in acuteness and logical correctness of thinking."
Democritus was a contemporary of Socrates and the Sophists,
and should, on purely chronological grounds, be treated some-
what later in our history. The difficulty is that he is so hard to
separate from Leucippus. On this ground, I am considering him
before Socrates and the Sophists, although part of his philosophy
was intended as an answer to Protagoras, his fellow-townsman
and the most eminent of the Sophists. Protagoras, when he visited
Athens, was received enthusiastically; Democritus, on the other
hand, says: "I went to Athens, and no one knew me." For a long
time, his philosophy was ignored in Athens; "It is not clear," says
Burnet, "that Plato knew anything about Democritus Aristotle,

1 Cyril Bailey, The Greek Atomitt* and Epicurus, estimates that he
flourished about 430 B.C. or a link earlier.

THE ATOMISTS

on the other hand, knows Democritus well; for he too was an
Ionian from the North."1 Plato never mentions him in the Dia-
logues, but is said by Diogenes Laertius to have disliked him so
much that he wished all his books burnt. Heath esteems him
highly as a mathematician.2

The fundamental ideas of the common philosophy of Leucippus
and Democritus were due to the former, but as regards the
working out it is hardly possible to disentangle them, nor is it,
for our purposes, important to make the attempt. Leucippus,
if not Democritus, was led to atomism in the attempt to mediate
between monism and pluralism, as represented by Parmenides
and Empedocles respectively. Their point of view was remark-
ably like that of modern science, and avoided most of the faults
to which Greek speculation was prone. They believed that
everything is composed of atoms, which are physically, but
not geometrically, indivisible; that between the atoms there is
empty space; that atoms are indestructible; that they always have
been, and always will be, in motion; that there are an infinite
number of atoms, and even of kinds of atoms, the differences being
as regards shape and size. Aristotle3 asserts that, according to the
atomists, atoms also differ as regards heat, the spherical atoms,
which compose fire, being the hottest; and as regards weight, he
quotes Democritus as saying "The more any indivisible exceeds,
the heavier it is." But the question whether atoms are originally
possessed of weight in the theories of the atomists is a controversial
one.

The atoms were always in motion, but there is disagreement
among commentators as to the character of the original motion.
Some, especially Zeller, hold that the atoms were thought to be
always falling, and that the heavier ones fell faster; they thus
caught up the lighter ones, there were impacts, and the atoms
were deflected like billiard balls. This was certainly the view of
Epicurus, who in most respects based his theories on those of
Democritus, while trying, rather unintelligently, to take account
of Aristotle's criticisms. But there is considerable reason to think
that weight was not an original property of the atoms of Leucippus
and Democritus. It seems more probable that, on their view,
atoms were originally moving at random, as in the modern kinetic

1 /•'ram ThaUt to Plato, p. 193- f G™*k Mathematics, Vol. I, p. 176.
9 On Generation and Corruption, 316*.

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

theory of gases. Democritus said there was neither up nor down
in the infinite void, and compared the movement of atoms in the
soul to that of motes in a sunbeam when there is no wind. This is
a much more intelligent view than that of Epicurus, and I think
we may assume it to have been that of Leucippus and Democritus.1

As a result of collisions, collections of atoms came to form
vortices. The rest proceeded much as in Anaxagoras, but it was
an advance to explain the vortices mechanically rather than as
due to the action of mind.

It was common in antiquity to reproach the atomists with attri-
buting everything to chance. They were, on the contrary, strict
determinists, who believed that everything happens in accordance
with natural laws. Democritus explicitly denied that anything can
happen by chance.8 Leucippus, though his existence is questioned,
is known to have said one thing: "Naught happens for nothing,
but everything from a ground and of necessity/' It is true that
he gave no reason why the world should originally have been as
it was; this, perhaps, might have been attributed to chance*. Hut
when once the world existed, its further development was un-
alterably fixed by mechanical principles. -Aristotle and others
reproached him and Democritus for not accounting for the
original motion of the atoms, but in thi* the atomists were more
scientific than their critics. Causation must start from something,
and wherever it starts no cause can be assigned for the initial
datum. The world may be attributed to a Creator, but even then
the Creator Himself is unaccounted for. The theory of the atomists,
in fact, was more nearly that of modern science than any other
theory propounded in antiquity.

The atomists, unlike Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle, sought to
explain the world without introducing the notion of purpose or
Jmal cause. The "final cause" of an occurrence is an event in the
future for the sake of which the occurrence takes place. In human
affairs, this conception is applicable. Why does the baker make
bread? Because people will be hungry. Why are railways built?
Because people will wish to travel In such cases, things are ex-
plained by the purpose they serve. When we ask "why?" con-
cerning an event, we may mean either of two things. We may

1 This interpretation is adopted by Bumct, and alsfy at leant as regard*
Leucippus, by Uaiiey (op. nV., p. 83).
* See Bailey, op. a/., p. 121, on the detenniruttn of Uetnocqtu*.

THE ATOMIST8

mean: "What purpose did this event serve?" or we may mean:
"What earlier circumstances caused this event?" The answer to
the former question is a teleological explanation, or an explanation
by final causes ; the answer to the latter question is a mechanistic
explanation. I do not see how it could have been known in advance
which of these two questions science ought to ask, or whether it
ought to ask both. But experience has shown that the mechanistic
question leads to scientific knowledge, while the teleological
question does not. The atomists asked the mechanistic question,
and gave a mechanistic answer. Their successors, until the Re-
naissance, were more interested in the teleological question, and
thus led science up a blind alley.

In regard to both questions alike, there is a limitation which is
often ignored, both in popular thought and in philosophy. Neither
question can be asked intelligibly about reality as a whole (including
God), but only about parts of it. As regards the teleological
explanation, it usually arrives, before long, at a Creator, or at least
an Artificer, whose purposes are realized in the course of nature.
But if a man is so obstinately teleological as to continue to ask
what purpose is served by the Creator, it becomes obvious that
his question is impious. It is, moreover, unmeaning, since, to
make it significant, we should have to suppose the Creator created
by some super-Creator whose purposes He served. The conception
of purpose, therefore, is only applicable within reality, not to
reality as a whole.

A not dissimilar argument applies to mechanistic explanations.
One event is caused by another, the other by a third, and so on.
But if we ask for a cause of the whole, we are driven again to the
Creator, who must Himself be uncaused. All causal explanations,
therefore must have an arbitrary beginning. That is why it is no
defect in the theory of the atomists to have left the original move-
ments of the atoms unaccounted for.

It must not be supposed that their reasons for their theories
were wholly empirical. The atomic theory was revived in modern
times to explain the facts of chemistry, but these facts were not
known to the Greeks. There was no very sharp distinction, in
ancient times, between empirical observation and logical argu-
ment. Parmcnides, it is true, treated observed facts with contempt,
but Empedocles*and Anaxagoras would combine much of their
metaphysics with observations on water-clocks and whirling

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

buckets. Until the Sophists, no philosopher seems to have doubted
that a complete metaphysic and cosmology could be established
by a combination of much reasoning and some observation. By
good luck, the atomists hit on a hypothesis for which, more than
two thousand years later, some evidence was found, but their
belief, in their day, was none the less destitute of any solid
foundation.1

Like the other philosophers of his time, Leucippus was con-
cerned to find a way of reconciling the arguments of Parmenides
with the obvious fact of motion and change. As Aristotle says:2

" Although these opinions [those of Parmenides] appear to follow
logically in a dialectical discussion, yet to believe them seems
next door to madness when one considers the facts. For indeed no
lunatic seems to be so far out of his senses as to suppose that fire
and ice are "one": it is only between what is right and what seems
right from habit that some people are mad enough to see no
difference."

Leucippus, however, thought he had a theory which harmonized
with sense-perception and would not abolish either coming-to-be
and passing-away or motion and the multiplicity of things. He
made these concessions to the facts of perception: on the other
hand, he conceded to the Monists that there could be no motion
without a void. The result is a theory which he states as follows :
"The void is a not-being, and no part of what is is a not-being; for
what is in the strict sense of the term is an absolute plenum. This
plenum, however, is not one; on the contrary, it is a many infinite
in number and invisible owing to the minuteness of their bulk. The
many move in the void (for there is a void): and by coming to-
gether they produce coming-to-be, while by separating they pro-
duce passing-away. Moreover, they act and suffer action whenever
they chance to be in contact (for there they are not one), and they
generate by being put together and become intertwined. From
the genuinely one, on the other hand, there could never have come
to be a multiplicity, nor from the genuinely many a one: that is
impossible."

It will be seen that there was one point on which even-body 50
far was agreed, namely that there could be no motion in a plenum.

1 On the logical and mathematical grounds for the theories of the
•tomists, tee Gaston Mtthaud, Let Phifaiophn Gfometw de la Greet,
chap. sv.

* On Generation and Corruption, 325*.

THE ATOMISTS

In this, all alike were mistaken. There can be cyclic motion in a
plenum, provided it has always existed. The idea was that a thing
could only move into an empty place, and that, in a plenum, there
are no empty places. It might be contended, perhaps validly, that
motion could never begin in a plenum, but it cannot be validly
maintained that it could not occur at all. To the Greeks, however,
it seemed that one must either acquiesce in the unchanging world
of Parmcnides, or admit the void.

Now the arguments of Parmenides against not-being seemed
logically irrefutable against the void, and they were reinforced by
the discovery that where there seems to be nothing there is air.
(This is an example of the confused mixture of logic and observa-
tion that was common.) We may put the Parmenidean position
in this way: "You say there is the void; therefore the void is not
nothing; therefore it is not the void." It cannot be said that the
atomists answered this argument; they merely proclaimed that
they proposed to ignore it, on the ground that motion is a fact of
experience, and therefore there must be a void, however difficult
it may be to conceive.1

Let us consider the subsequent history of this problem. The
first and most obvious way of avoiding the logical difficulty is to
distinguish between matter and space. According to this view,
space is not nothing, but is of the nature of a receptacle, which
may or may not have any given part filled with matter. Aristotle
says (Physics, 208 b): 'The theory that the void exists involves
the existence of place: for one would define void as place bereft
of body/' This view is set forth with the utmost explicitness by
Newton, who asserts the existence of absolute space, and accor-
dingly distinguishes absolute from relative motion. In the
C'opernican controversy, both sides (however little they may
have realized it) were committed to this view, since they thought
there was a difference between saying "the heavens revolve from
cast to west" and saying "the earth rotates from west to east/'
If all motion is relative, these two statements are merely different

1 Bailey (op. «/., p. 75) maintains, on the contrary, that Leucippus had
an answer, which was "extremely subtle." It consisted essentially in
admitting the existence of something (the void) which was not corporeal.
Similarly Burnet sa>«; "It is a curious fact that the Atomists, who are
commonly regarded as the great materialists of antiquity, were actually
the first to wy distinctly that a thing might be real without being a body."

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

ways of saying the same thing, like "John is the father of James"
and "James is the son of John." But if all motion is relative, and
space is not substantial, we are left with the Parmenidean argu-
ments against the void on our hands.

Descartes, whose arguments are of just the same sort as those
of early Greek philosophers, said that extension is the essence of
matter, and therefore there is matter everywhere. For him,
extension is an adjective, not a substantive; its substantive is
matter, and without its substantive it cannot exist. Empty space,
to him, is as absurd as happiness without a sentient being who is
happy. Leibniz, on somewhat different grounds, also believed in
the plenum, but he maintained that space is merely a system of
relations. On this subject there was a famous controversy between
him and Newton, the latter represented by Clarke. The con-
troversy remained undecided until the time of Einstein, whose
theory conclusively gave the victory to Leibniz.

The modern physicist, while he still believes that matter is in
some sense atomic, does not believe in empty space. Where there
is not matter, there is still something, notably light-waves. Matter
no longer has the lofty status that it acquired in philosophy through
the arguments of Parmenides. It is not unchanging substance, but
merely a way of grouping events. Some events belong to groups
that can be regarded as material things; others, such as light-
waves, do not. It is the events that are the stuff of the world, and
each of them is of brief duration. In this respect, modern physics
is on the side of Heraclitus as against Parmenides. But it was on
the side of Parmenides until Einstein and quantum theory.

As regards space, the modern view is that it is neither a sub-
stance, as Newton maintained, and as Leucippus and Democritus
ought to have said, nor an adjective of extended bodies, as Des-
cartes thought, but a system of relations, as Leibniz held. It is
not by any means clear whether this view is compatible with the
existence of the void. Perhaps, as a matter of abstract logic, it can
be reconciled with the void. We might say that, between any two
things, there is a certain greater or smaller distance, and that
distance does not imply the existence of intermediate things.
Such a point of view, however, would be impossible to utilize
in modern physics. Since Einstein, distance ^is between events,
not between things, and involves time as well as space. It is
essentially a causal conception, and in modern physra there is

THE ATOMI3TB

no action at a distance. All this, however, is based upon empirical
rather than logical grounds. Moreover the modern view cannot be
stated except in terms of differential equations, and would therefore
be unintelligible to the philosophers of antiquity.

It would seem, accordingly, that the logical development of the
views of the atomists is the Newtonian theory of absolute space,
which meets the difficulty of attributing reality to not-being. To
this theory there are no logical objections. The chief objection is
that absolute space is absolutely unknowable, and cannot therefore
be a necessary hypothesis in an empirical science. The more
practical objection is that physics can get on without it. But the
world of the atomists remains logically possible, and is more akin
to the actual world than is the world of any other of the ancient
philosophers.

Democritus worked out his theories in considerable detail, and
some of the working-out is interesting. Each atom, he said, was
impenetrable and indivisible because it contained no void. When
you use a knife to cut an apple, the knife has to find empty places
where it can penetrate ; if the apple contained no void, it would
be infinitely hard and therefore physically indivisible. Each atom
is internally unchanging, and in fact a Parmenidean One. The only
things that atoms do are to move and hit each other, and some-
times to combine when they happen to have shapes that are
capable of interlocking. They are of all sorts of shapes; fire is
composed of small spherical atoms, and so is the soul. Atoms, by
collision, produce vortices, which generate bodies and ultimately
worlds.1 There are many worlds, some growing, some decaying;
some may have no sun or moon, some several. Every world has a
Ixrtfinning and an end. A world may be destroyed by collision
with a larger world. This cosmology may be summarized in
Shelley's words:

Worlds on worlds are rolling ever

From creation to decay,
Like the bubbles on a river

Sparkling bursting, borne away.

Life developed out of the primeval slime. There is some fire every-
where in a living body, but most in the brain or in the breast. (On

1 On the way in wfiich this was supposed to happen, sec Bailey, op. «'!.,
p. 138 ff.

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

this, authorities differ.) Thought is a kind of motion, and is thus
able to cause motion elsewhere. Perception and thought are phy-
sical processes. Perception is of two sorts, one of the senses, one
of the understanding. Perceptions of the latter sort depend only
on the things perceived, while those of the former sort depend
also on our senses, and are therefore apt to be deceptive. Like
Locke, Democritus held that such qualities as warmth, taste, and
colour are not really in the object, but are due to our sense-organs,
while such qualities as weight, density, and hardness are really in
the object.

Democritus was a thorough-going materialist; for him, as we
have seen, the soul was composed of atoms, and thought was a
physical process. There was no purpose in the universe; there
were only atoms governed by mechanical laws. He disbelieved in
popular religion, and he argued against the nous of Anaxagoras.
In ethics he considered cheerfulness the goal of life, and regarded
moderation and culture as the best means to it. He disliked every-
thing violent and passionate; he disapproved of sex, because, he
said, it involved the overwhelming of consciousness by pleasure.
He valued friendship, but thought ill of women, and did not desire
children, because their education interferes with philosophy. In
all this, he was very like Jeremy Bentham ; he was equally so in
his love of what the Greeks called democracy.1

Democritus — such, at least, is my opinion — is the last of the
Greek philosophers to be free from a certain fault which vitiated
all later ancient and medieval thought. All the philosophers we
have been considering so far were engaged in a disinterested effort
to understand the world. They thought it easier to understand
than it is, but without this optimism they would not have had the
courage to make a beginning. Their attitude, in the main, was
genuinely scientific whenever it did not merely embody the pre-
judices of their age. But it was not only scientific ; it was imaginative
and vigorous and filled with the delight of adventure. They were
interested in everything — meteors and eclipses, fishes and whirl-
winds, religion and morality; with a penetrating intellect they
combined the zest of children.

From this point onwards, there are first certain seeds of decay,
in spite of previously unmatched achievement, and then a gradual

1 "Poverty in a democracy t* •• much to be preferred to what is called
prosperity under despots •* freedom is to slavery/' he tayt.

THE ATOMIBT8

decadence. What is amiss, even in the best philosophy after Demo-
critus, is an undue emphasis on man as compared with the universe.
First comes scepticism, with the Sophists, leading to a study of
how we know rather than to the attempt to acquire fresh knowledge.
Then comes, with Socrates, the emphasis on ethics; with Plato,
the rejection of the world of sense in favour of the self-created
world of pure thought; with Aristotle, the belief in purpose as
the fundamental concept in science. In spite of the genius of Plato
and Aristotle, their thought has vices which proved infinitely
harmful. After their time, there was a decay of vigour, and a
gradual recrudescence of popular superstition. A partially new
outlook arose as a result of the victory of Catholic orthodoxy; but
it was not until the Renaissance that philosophy regained the
vigour and independence that characterize the predecessors of
Socrates.

Chapter X
PROTAGORAS

E • IHE great pre-Socratic systems that we have been consider-
I ing were confronted, in the latter half of the fifth century,
JL by a sceptical movement, in which the most important
figure was Protagoras, chief of the Sophists. The word "Sophist"
had originally no bad connotation; it meant, as nearly as may be,
what we mean by "professor." A Sophist was a man who made
his living by teaching young men certain things that, it was
thought, would be useful to them in practical life. As there was
no public provision for such education, the Sophists taught only
those who had private means, or whose parents had. This tended
to give them a certain class bias, which was increased by the
political circumstances of the time. In Athens and many other
cities, democracy was politically triumphant, but nothing had
been done to diminish the wealth of those who belonged to the
old aristocratic families. It was, in the main, the rich who em-
bodied what appears to us as Hellenic culture: they had education
and leisure, travel had taken the edge off their traditional pre-
judices, and the time that they spent in discussion sharpened their
wits. What was called democracy did not touch the institution of
slavery, which enabled the rich to enjoy their wealth without
oppressing free citizens.

In many cities, however, and especially in Athens, the poorer
citizens had towards the rich a double hostility, that of envy, and
that of traditionalism. The rich were supposed — often with justice
— to be impious and immoral; they were subverting ancient
beliefs, and probably trying to destroy democracy'. It thus hap-
pened that political democracy, was associated with cultural
conservatism, while those who were cultural innovators tended to
be political reactionaries. Somewhat the same situation exists in
modern America, where Tammany, as a mainly Catholic organiza-
tion, is engaged in defending traditional theological and ethical
dogmas against the assaults of enlightenment. But the enlightened
are politically weaker in America than they were in Athens,
because they have failed to make common cav*e with the pluto-
cracy. There is, however, one important and highly intellectual

PROTAGORAS

class which is concerned with the defence of the plutocracy,
namely the class of corporation lawyers. In same respects, their
functions are similar to those that were performed in Athens by
the Sophists.

Athenian democracy, though it had the grave limitation of not
including slaves or women, was in some respects more democratic
than any modern system. Judges and most executive officers were
chosen by lot, and served for short periods; they were thus average
citizens, like our jurymen, with the prejudices and lack of pro-
fessionalism characteristic of average citizens. In general, there
were a large number of judges to hear each case. The plaintiff
and defendant, or prosecutor and accused, appeared in person,
not through professional lawyers. Naturally, success or failure
depended largely on oratorical skill in appealing to popular pre-
judices. Although a man had to deliver his own speech, he could
hire an expert to write the speech for him, or, as many preferred,
he could pay for instruction in the arts required for success in the
law courts. These arts the Sophists were supposed to teach.

The aye of Pericles is analogous, in Athenian history, to the
Victorian age in the history of England. Athens was rich and
powerful, not much troubled by wars, and possessed of a demo-
cratic constitution administered by aristocrats. As we have seen,
in connection with Anaxagoras, a democratic opposition to
Pericles gradually gathered strength, and attacked his friends one
by one. The Pcloponnesian War broke out in 43 1 B.C. ;J Athens
(in common with many other places) was ravaged by the plague;
the population, which had been about 230,000, was greatly
reduced, and never rose again to its former level (Bury, History of
Greece, I, p. 444). Pericles himself, in 430 B.C., was deposed from
the office of general and fined for misappropriation of public
money, but soon reinstated. His two legitimate sons died
of the plague, and he himself died in the following year (429).
Pheidias and Anaxagoras were condemned; Aspasia was prose-
cuted for impiety and for keeping a disorderly house, but
acquitted.

In such a community, it was natural that men who were likely
to incur the hostility of democratic politicians should wish to
acquire forensic skill. For Athens, though much addicted to per-
secution, was in one respect less illiberal than modern America,
1 It ended in 404 ii.C. with the complete overthrow of Athens.

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

since those accused of impiety and corrupting the young were
allowed to plead in their own defence.

This explains the popularity of the Sophists with one class and
their unpopularity with another. But in their own minds they
served more impersonal purposes, and it is clear that many of
them were genuinely concerned with philosophy. Plato devoted
himself to caricaturing and vilifying them, but they must not be
judged by his polemics. In his lighter vein, take the following
passage from the Eutkydemus, in which two Sophists, Dionyso-
dorus and Euthydemus, set to work to puzzle a simple-minded
person named Clesippus. Dionysodorus begins:

You say that you have a dog ?

Yes, a villain of a one, said Clesippus.

And he has puppies ?

Yes, and they are very like himself.

And the dog is the father of them ?

Yes, he said, I certainly saw him and the mother of the

puppies come together.
And is he not yours ?
To be sure he is.
Then he is a father, and he is yours; ergo, he is your

father, and the puppies are your brothers.

In a more serious vein, take the dialogue called The Sophist.
This is a logical discussion of definition, which uses the sophist
as an illustration. With its logic we are not at present concerned ;
the only thing I wish to mention at the moment as regards this
dialogue is the final conclusion :

"The ait of contradiction-making, descended from an insincere
kind of conceited mimicry, of the semblance- making breed,
derived from image-making, distinguished as a portion, not divine
but human, of production, that presents a shadow-play of words
— such is the blood and lineage which can, with perfect truth, be
assigned to the authentic Sophist/' (Corn ford's translation.)

There is a story about Protagoras, no doubt apocryphal, which
illustrates the connection of the Sophists with the law-courts in
the popular mind. It is said that he taught a young man on the
terms that he should be paid his fee if the young man won
his first law-suit, but not otherwise, and that the young man's
first law-suit was one brought by Protagoras for recovery of
his fee.

PROTAGORAS

However, it is time to leave these preliminaries and see what is
really known about Protagoras.

Protagoras was born about 500 B.C., at Abdera, the city from
which Democritus came. He twice visited Athens, his second visit
being not later than 432 B.C. He made a code of laws for the city
of Thurii in 444-3 B.C. There is a tradition that he was prosecuted
for impiety, but this seems to be untrue, in spite of the fact that
he wrote a book On the Gods, which began: "With regard to the
gods, I cannot feel sure either that they are or that they are not,
nor what they are like in figure; for there are many things that
hinder sure knowledge, the obscurity of the subject and the
shortness of human life."

His second visit to Athens is described somewhat satirically in
Plato's Protagoras, and his doctrines are discussed seriously in
the Theaetetus. He is chiefly noted for his doctrine that "Man is
the measure of all things, of things that are that they are, and of
things that are not that they are not." This is interpreted as
meaning that each man is the measure of all things, and that,
when men differ, there is no objective truth in virtue of which
one is right and the other wrong. The doctrine is essentially
sceptical, and is presumably based on the "deceitfulness" of the
senses.

One of the three founders of pragmatism, F. C. S. Schiller, was
in the halm of calling himself a disciple of Protagoras. This was,
I think, because Plato, in the Thcaetetus, suggests, as an interpre-
tation of Protagoras, that one opinion can be better than another,
though it cannot be truer. For example, when a man has jaundice
everything looks yellow. There is no sense in saying that things
are really not yellow, but the colour they look to a man in health;
we can say, however, that, since health is better than sickness,
the opinion of the man in health is better than that of the man
who has jaundice. This point of view, obviously, is akin to
pragmatism.

The disbelief in objective truth makes the majority, for practical
puqxiscs, the arbiters as to what to believe. Hence Protagoras was
led to a defence of law and convention and traditional morality.
While, as we saw, he did not know whether the gods existed, he
was sure they ought to be worshipped. This point of view is
obviously the right one for a man whose theoretical scepticism is
thoroughgoing and logical.

97 D

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

Protagoras spent his adult life in a sort of perpetual lecture tour
through the cities of Greece, teaching, for a fee, "any one who
desired practical efficiency and higher mental culture" (Zeller,
p. 1299). Plato objects — somewhat snobbishly, according to modern
notions — to the Sophists' practice of charging money for instruc-
tion. Plato himself had adequate private means, and was unable,
apparently, to realize the necessities of those who had not his good
fortune. It is odd that modern professors, who see no reason to
refuse a salary, have so frequently repeated Plato's strictures.

There was, however, another point in which the Sophists differed
from most contemporary philosophers. It was usual, except among
the Sophists, for a teacher to found a school, which had some of
the properties of a brotherhood; there was a greater or smaller
amount of common life, there was often something analogous to
a monastic rule, and there was usually an esoteric doctrine not
proclaimed to the public. All this was natural wherever philosophy
had arisen out of Orphism. Among the Sophists there was none
of this. What they had to teach was not, in their minds, connected
with religion or virtue. They taught the art of arguing, and as
much knowledge as would help in this an. Broadly speaking, they
were prepared, like modern lawyers, to show how to ar^ue for
or against any opinion, and were not concerned to advocate con-
clusions of their own. Those to whom philosophy was a way of
life, closely bound up with religion, were naturally shocked; to
them, the Sophists appeared frivolous and immoral.

To some extent — though it is impossible to say how far— the
odium which the Sophists incurred, not only with the general
public, but with Plato and subsequent philosophers, was due to
their intellectual merit. The pursuit of truth, when it is whole-
hearted, must ignore moral considerations; we cannot know in
advance that the truth will turn out to be what is thought edifying
in a given society. The Sophists were prepared to follow an argu-
ment wherever it might lead them. Often it led them to scepticism.
One of them, Gorgias, maintained that nothing exists; that if
anything exists, it is unknowable; and granting it even to exist
and la be knowable by any one man, he could never communicate
it to others. We do not know what hLs arguments were, but I can
well imagine that they had a logical force which compelled his
opponents to take refuge in edification. Plato u? always concerned
to advocate views that \\ill make people wliat he thinks virtuous;

PROTAGORAS

he is hardly ever intellectually honest, because he allows himself
to judge doctrines by their social consequences. Even about this,
he is not honest; he pretends to follow the argument and to be
judging by purely theoretical standards, when in fact he is twist-
ing the discussion so as to lead to a virtuous result. He introduced
this vice into philosophy, where it has persisted ever since. It
was probably largely hostility to the Sophists that gave this,
character to his dialogues. One of the defects of all philosophers
since Plato is that their inquiries into ethics proceed on the
assumption that they already know the conclusions to be reached.

It seems that there were men, in the Athens of the late fifth
century, who taught political doctrines which seemed immoral to
their contemporaries, and seem so to the democratic nations of
the present day. Thrasymachus, in the first book of the Republic,
argues that there is no justice except the interest of the stronger;
that laws are made by governments for their own advantage; and
that there is no impersonal standard to which to appeal in contests
for power, Callicles, according to Plato (in the Gorgtas), maintained
a similar doctrine. The law of nature, he said, is the law of the
stronger; but for convenience men have established institutions
and moral precepts to restrain the strong. Such doctrines have
won much wider assent in our day than they did in antiquity.
And whatever may be thought of them, they are not characteristic
of the Sophists.

During the fifth century — whatever part the Sophists may have
had in the change- — there was in Athens a transformation from a
certain stiff Puritan simplicity to a quick-witted and rather cruel
cynicism in conflict with a slow-witted and equally cruel defence
of crumbling orthodoxy. At the beginning of the century comes
the Athenian championship of the cities of Ionia against the
Persians, and the victory of Marathon in 490 B.C. At the end
comes the defeat of Athens by Sparta in 404 B.C., and the execu-
tion of Socrates in 3^9 B.C. After this time Athens ceased to be
politically important, but acquired undoubted cultural supremacy,
which it retained until the victory of Christianity.

Something of the history of fifth-century
the understanding of Plato and of all subsec
In the first Persian war, the chief glory
owing to the decisfvc victor}' at Marathor
years later^ the Athenians still were the

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

but on land victory was mainly due to the Spartans, who were the
acknowledged leaders of the Hellenic world. The Spartans, how-
ever, were narrowly provincial in their outlook, and ceased to
oppose the Persians when they had been chased out of European
Greece. The championship of the Asiatic Greeks, and the libera-
tion of the islands that had been conquered by the Persians, was
undertaken, with great success, by Athens. Athens became the
leading sea power, and acquired a considerable imperialist control
over the Ionian islands. Under the leadership of Pericles, who was
a moderate democrat and a moderate imperialist, Athens prospered.
The great temples, whose ruins are still the glory of Athens, were
built by his initiative, to replace those destroyed by Xerxes. The
city increased very rapidly in wealth, and also in culture, and, as
invariably happens at such times, particularly when wealth is due
to foreign commerce, traditional morality and traditional beliefs
decayed.

There was at this time in Athens an extraordinarily large
number of men of genius. The three great dramatists, Aeschylus,
Sophocles, and Euripides, all belong to the fifth century. Aeschylus
fought at Marathon and saw the battle of Salamis. Sophocles was
still religiously orthodox. But Euripides was influenced by Prota-
goras and by the free-thinking spirit of the time, and his treatment
of the myths is sceptical and subversive. Aristophanes, the comic
poet, made fun of Socrates, Sophists, and philosophers, but,
nevertheless, belonged to their circle; in the Symposium Plato
represents him as on very friendly terms with Socrates. Pheidias
the sculptor, as we have seen, belonged to the circle of Pericles.

The excellence of Athens, at this period, was artistic rather
than intellectual. None of the great mathematicians or philosophers
of the fifth century were Athenians, with the exception of Socrates ;
and Socrates was not a writer, but a man who confined himself
to oral discussion.

The outbreak of the Pcloponncsian War in 431 B.C. and t he-
death of Pericles in 429 B.C. introduced a darker period in Athenian
history. The Athenians were superior at sea, but the Spartans
had supremacy on land, and repeatedly occupied Attica (except
Athens) during the summer. The result was that Athens was over-
crowded, and suffered severely from the plague. In 414 B.C. the
Athenians sent a large expedition to Sicily, in the hope of capturing
Syracuse, which was aljied with Sparta; but the attempt was a

100

PROTAGORAS

failure. War made the Athenians fierce and persecuting. In 416 B.C.
they conquered the island of Melos, put to death all men of
military age and enslaved the other inhabitants. The Trojan
Women of Euripides is a protest against such barbarism. The
conflict had an ideological aspect, since Sparta was the champion
of oligarchy and Athens of democracy. The Athenians had reason
to suspect some of their own aristocrats of treachery, which was
generally thought to have had a part in the final naval defeat at
the battle of Acgospotami in 405 B.C.

At the end of the war, the Spartans established in Athens an
oligarchical government, known as the Thirty Tyrants. Some of
the Thirty, including Critias, their chief, had been pupils of
Socrates. They were deservedly unpopular, and were overthrown
within a year. With the compliance of Sparta, democracy was
restored, but it was an embittered democracy, precluded by an
amnesty from direct vengeance against its internal enemies, but
glad of any pretext, not covered by the amnesty, for prosecuting
them. It was in this atmosphere that the trial and death of Socrates
took place- (3W n.r.).

101

Part 2. — Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle

Chapter XI
SOCRATES

SOCRATES is a very difficult subject for the historian. There
are many men concerning whom it is certain that very little
is known, and other men concerning whom it is certain that
a great deal is known; but in the case of Socrates the uncertainty
is as to whether we kno\v very little or a great deal. He was un-
doubtedly an Athenian citizen of moderate means, who spent his
time in disputation, and taught philosophy to the young, but not
for money, like the Sophists. lie was certainly tried, condemned
to death, and executed in 399 B.C., at about the ape of seventy.
He was unquestionably a well-known figure in Athens, since
Aristophanes caricatured him in The Clouds. But beyond this
point we become involved in controversy. Two of his pupils,
Xenophon and Plato, wrote voluminously about him, but they
said very different things. Even when they agree, it has been
suggested by Burnet that Xenophon is copying Plato. Where they
disagree, some believe the one, some the other, some neither. In
such a dangerous dispute, I shall not venture to take sides, but I
will set out briefly the various points of view.

Let us begin with Xenophon, a military man, not very lilnrrally
endowed with brains, and on the whole conventional in his out-
look. Xenophon is pained that Socrates should have been accused
of impiety and of corrupting the youth; he contends that, on the
cont ran\ Socrates was eminently pious and had a thoroughly
wholesome effect upon those who came under his influence. His
ideas, it appears, so far from being subversive, were rather dull
and commonplace. This defence goes too far, since it leaves the
hostility to Socrates unexplained. As Burnet says (Tliaks to Plato.
p. 149): "Xenophon *8 defence of .Socrates is too successful. He
would never have been put to death if he had been like that."

There has been a tendency to think that everything Xenophon
gays must be true, because he had not the wits to think/if anything

102

SOCRATES

untrue. This is a very invalid line of argument. A stupid man's
report of what a clever man says is never accurate, because he un-
consciously translates what he hears into something that he can
understand. I would rather be reported by my bitterest enemy
among philosophers than by a friend innocent of philosophy. We
cannot therefore accept what Xenophon says if it either involves
any difficult point in philosophy or is part of an argument to prove
that Socrates was unjustly condemned.

Nevertheless, some of Xenophon 's reminiscences are very con-
vincing. He tells (as Plato also does) how Socrates was continually
occupied with the problem of getting competent men into positions
of power. He would ask such questions as: "If I wanted a shoe
mended, whom should I employ?" To which some ingenuous
youth would answer: "A shoemaker, O Socrates." He would go
on to carpenters, coppersmiths, etc., and finally ask some such
question as "who should mend the Ship of State?" When he fell
into conflict with the Thirty Tyrants, Critias, their chief, who
knew his ways from having studied under him, forbade him to
continue teaching the young, and added: "You had better be
done with your shoemakers, carpenters, and coppersmiths. These
must be pretty well trodden out at heel by this time, considering
the circulation you have given them" (Xenophon, Memorabilia,
Ilk. I, chap. ii). This happened during the brief oligarchic
government established by the Spartans at the end of the Pelo-
ponnesian War. But at most times Athens was democratic, so
much so that even generals were elected or chosen by lot. Socrates
came across a young man who wished to become a general, and
persuaded him that it would be well to know something of the
art of war. The young man accordingly went away and took a
brief course in tactics. When he returned, Socrates, after some
satirical praise, sent him back for further instruction (ibid., Bk. Ill,
chap. i). Another young man he set to learning the principles of
finance. He tried the same sort of plan on many people, including
the war minister; but it was decided that it was easier to silence
him by means of the hemlock than to cure the evils of which he
complained.

With Plato's account of Socrates, the difficulty is quite a different
one from what it is in the case of Xenophon, namely, that it is
very hard to judgc'how far Plato means to portray the historical
Socrates, a'jd how far he intends the person called "Socrates" in

•03

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

his dialogues to be merely the mouthpiece of his own opinions.
Plato, in addition to being a philosopher, is an imaginative writer
of great genius and charm. No one supposes, and he himself does
not seriously pretend, that the conversations in his dialogues took
place just as he records them. Nevertheless, at any rate in the
earlier dialogues, the conversation is completely natural and the
characters quite convincing. It is the excellence of Plato as a
writer of fiction that throws doubt on him as a historian. His
Socrates is a consistent and extraordinarily interesting character,
far beyond the power of most men to invent ; but I think Plato
could have invented him. Whether he did so is of course another
question.

The dialogue which is most generally regarded as historical is
the Apology. This professes to be the speech that Socrates made in
his own defence at his trial — not, of course, a stenographic report,
but what remained in Plato's memory some years after the event,
put together and elaborated with literary art. Plato was present
at the trial, and it certainly seems fairly clear that what is set
down is the sort of thing that Plato remembered Socrates as
saying, and that the intention is, broadly speaking, historical.
This, with all its limitations, is enough to give a fairly definite
picture of the character of Socrates.

The main facts of the trial of Socrates are not open to doubt.
The prosecution was based upon the charge that " Socrates is an
evil-doer and a curious person, searching into things under the
earth and above the heaven; and making the worse appear the
better cause, and teaching all this to others." The real ground of
hostility to him was, almost certainly, that he was supposed to
be connected with the aristocratic party; most of his pupils
belonged to this faction, and some, in positions of power, had
proved themselves very pernicious. But this ground could not be
made evident, on account of the amnesty. He was found guilty
by a majority, and it was then open to him, by Athenian law, to
propose some lesser penalty than death. The judges had to choose,
if they had found the accused guilty, between the penalty de-
manded by the prosecution and that suggested by the defence.
It was therefore to the interest of Socrates to suggest a substantial
penalty, which the court might have accepted as adequate. He,
however, proposed a fine of thirty minae, for 'which some of his
friends (including Plato) were willing to go surety. 'Vhis was so

104

SOCRATES

small a punishment that the court was annoyed, and condemned
him to death by a larger majority than that which had found him
guilty. Undoubtedly he foresaw this result. It is clear that he had
no wish to avoid the death penalty by concessions which might
seem to acknowledge his guilt.

The prosecutors were Anytus, a democratic politician; Meletus,
a tragic poet, "youthful and unknown, with lanky hair, and scanty
beard, and a hooked nose"; and Lykon, an obscure rhetorician.
(See Burnet, Thales to Plato, p. 180.) They maintained that
Socrates was guilty of not worshipping the gods the State wor-
shipped but introducing other new divinities, and further that
he was guilty of corrupting the young by teaching them accordingly.

Without further troubling ourselves with the insoluble question
of the relation of the Platonic Socrates to the real man, let us see
what Plato makes him say in answer to this charge.

Socrates begins by accusing his prosecutors of eloquence, and
rebutting the charge of eloquence as applied to himself. The only
eloquence of which he is capable, he says, is that of truth. And
they must not be angry with him if he speaks in his accustomed
manner, not in "a set oration, duly ornamented with words and
phrases/*1 He is over seventy, and has never appeared in a court
of law until now; they must therefore pardon his un-forensic way
of speaking.

lie goes on to say that, in addition to his formal accusers, he has
a large body of informal accusers, who, ever since the judges were
children, have gone about "telling of one Socrates, a wise man,
who speculated about the heavens above, and searched into the
earth beneath, and made the worse appear the better cause." Such
men, he says, are supposed not to believe in the existence of the
Htnls. This old accihsation by public opinion is more dangerous
than the formal indictment, the more so as he does not know
who are the men from whom it comes, except in the case of
Aristophanes.2 He points out, in reply to these older grounds of
hostility, that he is not a man of science — "I have nothing to do
with physical speculations" — that he is not a teacher, and does
not take money for teaching. He goes on to make fun of the
Sophist*, and to disclaim the knowledge that they profess to have.

1 In quotations frapi Plato, I have generally used Jowett's translation.
• In Tkf Clouds, Socrates is represented as denying the existence of
Zeus. ,

105

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

What, then, is "the reason why I am called wise and have such
an evil fame?1'

The oracle of Delphi, it appears, was once asked if there were
any man wiser than Socrates, and replied that there was not.
Socrates professes to have been completely puz/led, since he knew
nothing, and yet a god cannot lie. He therefore went about among
men reputed wise, to see whether he could convict the god of
error. First he went to a politician, who "was thought wise by
many, and still wiser by himself.*' He soon found that the man
was not wise, and explained this to him, kindly but firmly, "and
the consequence was that he hated me." He then went to the
poets, and asked them to explain passages in their writings, but
they were unable to do so. "Then I knew that not by wisdom do
poets write poetry, but by a sort of genius and inspiration.1' Then
he went to the artisans, but found them equally disappointing.
In the process, he says, he made many dangerous enemies. Finally
he concluded that "God only is wise; and by his answer he intends
to show that the wisdom of men is worth little or nothing; he is
not speaking of Socrates, he is only using my name by way of
illustration, as if he said, He, O men, is the wisest, who, like
Socrates, knows that his wisdom is in truth worth nothing." This
business of shoeing up pretenders to wisdom takes up all his time,
and has left him in utter poverty, but he feels it a duty to vindicate
the oracle.

Young men of the richer classes, he says, having not much to
do, enjoy listening to him exposing people, and proceed to do
likewise, thus increasing the number of his enemies. ''For they
do not like to confess that their pretence of knowledge has been
detected."

So much for the first class of accusers.

Socrates now proceeds to examine his prosecutor Mektus. "that
good man and true lover of his country, as he calls himself." He
asks who are the people who improve the young. Mclctus first
mentions the judges; then, under pressure, is driven, step by step,
to say that every Athenian except Socrates improves the young;
whereupon Socrates congratulates the city on its good fortune.
Next, he points out that good men are better to live among than
bad men, and therefore he cannot be so foolish as to corrupt his
fellow-citizens intentionally ; but if unintentionally, then Mclctus
should instruct him, not prosecute him.

106

SOCRATES

The indictment had said that Socrates not only denied the gods
of the State, but introduced other gods of his own ; Meletus, how-
ever, says that Socrates is a complete atheist, and adds: "He says
that the sun is stone and the moon earth." Socrates replies that
Meletus seems to think he is prosecuting Anaxagoras, whose
views may be heard in the theatre for one drachma (presumably
in the plays of Euripides). Socrates of course points out that this
new accusation of complete atheism contradicts the indictment,
and then passes on to more general considerations.

The rest of the Apology is essentially religious in tone. He has
been a soldier, and has remained at his post, as he was ordered
to do. Now "God orders me to fulfil the philosopher's mission of
searching into myself and other men," and it would be as shameful
to desert his post now as in time of battle. Fear of death is not
wisdom, since no one knows whether death may not be the greater
good. If he were offered his life on condition of ceasing to speculate
as he has done hitherto, he would reply: "Men of Athens, I
honour and love you ; but I shall obey God rather than you,1 and
while I have life and strength I shall never cease from the practice
and teaching of philosophy, exhorting any one whom I meet. . . .
For know that this is the command of God; and I believe that no
greater good has ever happened in the State than my service to
the God." He goes on:

I have something more to say, at which you may be inclined
to cry cnit; but I believe that to hear me will be good for you,
and therefore I beg that you will not cry out. I would have you
know, that if you kill such a one as I am, you will injure your-
selves more than you will injure me. Nothing will injure me,
not Meletus nor yet Anytus — they cannot, for a bad man is not
permitted to injure a belter than himself. I do not deny that
Anytus may perhaps kill him, or drive him into exile, or deprive
him of civil rights; and he may imagine, and others may imagine,
that he is intlicting a great injury upon him: but there I do not
agree. For the evil of doing as he is doing — the evil of unjustly
taking away the life of another — is greater far.

It is for the sake of his judges, he says, not for his own sake,
that he is pleading. He is a gad-fly, given to the State by God, and
it will not be easy to find another like him. "I dare say you may
feel out of temper»(like a person who is suddenly awakened from

1 Cf. Acts, v, 29.
107

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

sleep), and you think that you might easily strike me dead as
Anytus advises, and then you would sleep on for the remainder
of your lives, unless God in his care of you sent you another
gad-fly."

Why has he only gone about in private, and not given advice
on public affairs? "You have heard me speak at sundry times and
in diverse places of an oracle or sign which comes to me, and is
the divinity which Meletus ridicules in the indictment. This sign,
which is a kind of voice, first began to come to me when I was a
child; it always forbids but never commands me to do anything
which I am going to do. This is what deters me from being a
politician." He goes on to say that in politics no honest man can
live long. He gives two instances in which he was unavoidably
mixed up in public affairs: in the first, he resisted the democracy;
in the second, the Thirty Tyrants, in each case when the authorities
were acting illegally.

He points out that among those present are many former pupils
of his, and fathers and brothers of pupils ; not one of these has
been produced by the prosecution to testify that he corrupts the
young. (This is almost the only argument in the Apology that a
lawyer for the defence would sanction.) He refuses to follow the
custom of producing his weeping children in court, to soften the
hearts of the judges; such scenes, he says, make the accused and
the city alike ridiculous. It is his business to convince the judges,
not to ask a favour of them.

After the verdict, and the rejection of the alternative penalty of
thirty minae (in connection with which Socrates names Plato as
one among his sureties, and present in court), he makes OIK- final
speech.

And now, O men who have condemned me, I would fain
prophesy to you; for I am about to die, and in the hour of death
men are gifted with prophetic power. And I prophesy to you,
who are my murderers, that immediately after my departure
punishment far heavier than you have inflicted on me will surely
await you. ... If you think that by killing men you can prevent
some one from censuring your evil lives, you are mistaken; that
is not a way of escape which is either possible or honourable;
the easiest and the noblest way is not to be disabling others, but
to be improving yourselves.

He then turns to those of his judges w..^ .«ave ^voted for

108

SOCRATES

acquittal, and tells them that, in all that he has done that day, his
oracle has never opposed him, though on other occasions it has
often stopped him in the middle of a speech. This, he says, "is an
intimation that what has happened to me is a good, and that those
of us who think death is an evil are in error." For either death is
a dreamless sleep — which is plainly good — or the soul migrates to
another world. And "what would not a man give if he might
converse with Orpheus and Musaeus and Hesiod and Homer?
Nay, if this be true, let me die and die again." In the next world,
he will converse with others who have suffered death unjustly,
and, above all, lie will continue his search after knowledge. "In
another world they do not put a man to death for asking questions:
assuredly not. For besides being happier than we are, they will
be immortal, if what is said is true. . . .

"The hour of departure has arrived, and \ve go our ways — I
to die, ami you to live. Which is better God only knows."

The Apology gives a clear picture of a man of a certain type: a
man very sure of himself, high-minded, indifferent to worldly
success, believing that he is guided by a divine voice, and per-
suaded that clear thinking is the most important requisite for right
living. Lxcept in this last point, he resembles a Christian martyr
or a Puritan. In the final passage, where he considers what happens
after death, it is impossible not to feel that he firmly believes in
immortality, and that his professed uncertainty is only assumed.
He is not troubled, like the Christians, by fears of eternal torment:
he has no doubt that his life in the next world will be a happy
one. In the PhaeJo, the Platonic Socrates gives reasons for the
belief in immortality; whether these were the reasons that in-
fluenced the historical Socrates, it is impossible to say.

There seems hardly any doubt that the historical Socrates
claimed to be guided by an oracle or daimon. Whether this was
analogous to what a Christian would call the voice of conscience,
or whether it appeared to him as an actual voice, it is impossible
to know. Joan of Arc was inspired by voices, which are a common
symptom of insanity. Socrates was liable to cataleptic trances; at
least, that seems the natural explanation of such an incident as
occurred once when he was on military service:

One morning he was thinking about something which he could
not resolve; he would not give it up, but continued thinking from
early dawn until noon —there he stood fixed in thought; and at

109

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

noon attention was drawn to him, and the rumour ran through
the wondering crowd that Socrates had been standing and thinking
about something ever since the break of day. At last, in the
evening after supper, some lonians out of curiosity (I should
explain that this occurred not in winter but in summer), brought
out their mats and slept in the open air that they might watch
him and see whether he would stand all night. There he stood
until the following morning; and with the return of light he
offered up a prayer to the sun, and went his way (Symposium, 220).

This sort of thing, in a lesser degree, was a common occurrence
with Socrates. At the beginning of the Symposium, Socrates and
Aristodemus go together to the banquet, but Socrates drops behind
in a fit of abstraction. When Aristodemus arrives, Agathon, the
host, says "what have you done with Socrates?" Aristodemus is
astonished to find Socrates not with him; a slave is sent to look
for him, and finds him in the portico of a neighbouring house.
"There he is fixed," says the slave on his return, "ami when I
call to him he will not stir." Those who know him well explain
that "he has a way of stopping anywhere and losing himself
without any reason." They leave him alone, and he enters when
the feast is half over.

Every one is agreed that Socrates was very uply; he had a snub
nose and a considerable paunch ; he was "uglier than all the
Silenuses in the Satyric drama" (Xenophon, Symposium). He was
always dressed in shabby old clothes, and went barefoot every-
where. His indifference to heat and cold, hunger and thirst,
amazed every one. Alcihiades in the Symposium, describing
Socrates on military sen-ice, says:

His endurance was simply marvellous when, beins; cut off from
our supplies, we were compelled to go without food -on such
occasions, which often happen in time of war, he was superior
not only to me but to everybody: there was no one to be com-
pared to him. ... His fortitude in enduring cold was also
surprising. There was a severe frost, for the winter in that region
is really tremendous, and everybody else cither remained indoors
or if they went out had on an amazing quantity of clothes, and
were well shod, and had their feet swathed in felt and fleeces:
in the midst of this, Socrates with his bare feet on the ice and in
his ordinary dress marched better than the other soldiers who
had shoes and they looked daggers at him because he seemed
to despise them.

SOCRATES

His mastery over all bodily passions is constantly stressed. He
seldom drank wine, but when he did, he could out-drink anybody;
no one had ever seen him drunk. In love, even under the strongest
temptations, he remained "Platonic," if Plato is speaking the truth.
He was the perfect Orphic saint: in the dualism of heavenly soul
and earthly body, he had achieved the complete mastery of the
soul over the body. His indifference to death at the last is the
final proof of this mastery. At the same time, he is not an orthodox
Orphic; it is only the fundamental doctrines that he accepts, not
the superstitions and ceremonies of purification.

The Platonic Socrates anticipates both the Stoics and the Cynics.
The Stoics held that the supreme good is virtue, and that a man
cannot be deprived of virtue by outside causes ; this doctrine is
implicit in the contention of Socrates that his judges cannot harm
him. The Cynics despised worldly goods, and showed their con-
tempt by eschewing the comforts of civilization; this is the same
point of view that led Socrates to go barefoot and ill-clad.

It seems fairly certain that the preoccupations of Socrates were
ethical rather than scientific. In the Apology, as we saw, he says:
*4I have nothing to do with physical speculations." The earliest
of the Platonic dialogues, which are generally supposed to be the
most Socratic, are mainly occupied with the search for definitions
of ethical terms. The Charmides is concerned with the definition
of temj>erance or moderation ; the Lysis with friendship ; the Laches
with courage. In all of these, no conclusion is arrived at, but
Socrates makes it clear that he thinks it important to examine
such questions. The Platonic Socrates consistently maintains that
fie knows nothing, and is only wiser than others in knowing that
he knows nothing ; but he does not think knowledge unobtainable.
On the contrary, he thinks the search for knowledge of the utmost
importance. He maintains that no man sins wittingly, and there-
fore only knowledge is needed to make all men perfectly virtuous.

The close connection between virtue and knowledge is charac-
teristic of Socrates and Plato. To some degree, it exists in all
Greek thought, as opposed to that of Christianity. In Christian
ethics, a pure heart is the essential, and is at least as likely to be
found among the ignorant as among the learned. This difference
between Greek and Christian ethics has persisted down to the
present day, *

Dialectic, that is to say, the method of seeking knowledge by

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

question and answer, was not invented by Socrates. It seems to
have been first practised systematically by Zeno, the disciple of
Parmenides ; in Plato's dialogue Parmenides, Zeno subjects Socrates
to the same kind of treatment to which, elsewhere in Plato,
Socrates subjects others. But there is every reason to suppose that
Socrates practised and developed the method. As we saw, when
Socrates is condemned to death he reflects happily that in the
next world he can go on asking questions for ever, and cannot be
put to death, as he will be immortal. Certainly, if he practised
dialectic in the way described in the Apology, the hostility to him
is easily explained: all the humbugs in Athens would combine
against him.

The dialectic method is suitable for some questions, and un-
suitable for others. Perhaps this helped to determine the character
of Plato's inquiries, which were, for the most part, such as could
be dealt with in this way. And through Plato's influence, most
subsequent philosophy has been bounded by the limitations
resulting from his method.

Some matters are obviously unsuitable for treatment in this way
— empirical science, for example. It is true that Galileo used dia-
logues to advocate his theories, but that was only in order to
overcome prejudice — the positive grounds for his discoveries
could not be inserted in a dialogue without great artificiality.
Socrates, in Plato's works, always pretends that he is only eliciting
knowledge already possessed by the man he is questioning; on
this ground, he compares himself to a midwife. When, in the
Phaedo and the Afeno, he applies his method to geometrical
problems, he has to ask leading questions which any judge would
disallow. The method is in harmony with the doctrine of reminis-
cence, according to which we learn by remembering what we knew
in a former existence. As against this view, consider any discovery
that has been made by means of the microscope, say the spread
of diseases by bacteria; it can hardly be maintained that such
knowledge can be elicited from a previously ignorant person by
the method of question and answer.

The matters that are suitable for treatment by the Socrattc
method are those as to which we have already enough knowledge
to come to a right conclusion, but have failed, through confusion
of thought or lack of analysis, to make the best logical use of what
we know. A question such as "what is justice?'' is eminently suited

112

SOCRATES

for discussion in a Platonic dialogue. We all freely use the words
"just" and "unjust," and, by examining the ways in which we
use them, we can arrive inductively at the definition that will best
suit with usage. All that is needed is knowledge of how the words
in question are used. But when our inquiry is concluded, we have
made only a linguistic discovery, not a discovery in ethics.

We can, however, apply the method profitably to a somewhat
larger class of cases. Wherever what is being debated is logical
rather than factual, discussion is a good method of eliciting truth.
Suppose someone maintains, for example, that democracy is good,
hut persons holding certain opinions should not be allowed to
vote, we may convict him of inconsistency, and prove to him that
at least one of his two assertions must be more or less erroneous.
Logical errors are, I think, of greater practical importance than
many people believe; they enable their perpetrators to hold the
comfortable opinion on every subject in turn. Any logically
coherent body of doctrine is sure to be in part painful and con-
trary to current prejudices. The dialectic method — or, more
generally, the habit of unfettered discussion — tends to promote
logical consistency, and is in this way useful. But it is quite un-
availing when the object is to discover new facts. Perhaps "philo-
sophy*1 might he defined as the sum-total of those inquiries that
can he pursued by Plato's methods. But if this definition is
appropriate, that is because of Plato's influence upon subsequent
philosophers.

Chapter XII
THE INFLUENCE OF SPARTA

E • 1O understand Plato, and indeed many later philosophers,
I it is necessary to know something of Sparta. Sparta had
JL a double effect on Greek thought: through the reality, and
through the myth. Each is important. The reality enabled the
Spartans to defeat Athens in war; the myth influenced Plato's
political theory, and that of countless subsequent writers. The
myth, fully developed, is to be found in Plutarch's Life of Lycurgus\
the ideals that it favours have had a great part in framing the
doctrines of Rousseau, Nietzsche, and National Socialism.1 The
myth is of even more importance, historically, than the reality ;
nevertheless, we will begin with the latter. For the reality was the
source of the myth.

Laconia, of which Sparta, or Lacedacmon was the capital,
occupied the south-east of the Peloponnesus. The Spartans, who
were the ruling race, had conquered the country at the time of the
Dorian invasion from the north, and had reduced the population
that they found there to the condition of serfs. These serfs were
called helots. In historical times, all the land belonged to the
Spartans, who, however, were forbidden by law and custom to
cultivate it themselves, both on the ground that such labour was
degrading, and in order that they might always be free for military
service. The serfs were not bought and sold, but remained attached
to the land, which was divided into lots, one or more for each
adult male Spartan. These lots, like the helots, could not be
bought or sold, and passed, by law, from father to son. (They
could, however, be bequeathed.) The landowner received from
the helot who cultivated the lot seventy medirnni (about 105
bushels) of grain for himself, twelve for his wife, and a stated
portion of wine and fruit annually * Anything beyond this amount
was the property of the helot. The helots were Greeks, like the
Spartans, and bitterly resented their servile condition. When they
could, they rebelled. The Spartans had a body of secret police to

1 Not to mention Dr. Thomas Arnold and the English public schools.
f Bury, History of Greece, Vol. I, p. 138. It wen is that Spartan men ate
nearly six times as much as their wive*.

THE INFLUENCE OF SPARTA

deal with this danger, but to supplement this precaution they had
another: once a year, they declared war on the helots, so that their
young men could kill any who seemed insubordinate without
incurring the legal guilt of homicide. Helots could be emancipated
by the State, but not by their masters; they were emancipated,
rather rarely, for exceptional bravery in battle.

At some time during the eighth century B.C. the Spartans con-
quered the neighbouring country of Messenia, and reduced most
of its inhabitants to the condition of helots. There had been a
lack of Lebensraum in Sparta, but the new territory, for a time,
removed this source of discontent.

Lois were for the common run of Spartans; the aristocracy had
estates of their own, whereas the lots were portions of common
land assigned by the State.

The free inhabitants of other parts of Laconia, called "p^rioeci,"
had no share of political power.

The sole business of a Spartan citizen was war, to which he was
trained from birth. Sickly children were exposed after inspection
by the heads of the tribe; only those judged vigorous were allowed
to be reared. Up to the age of twenty, all the boys were trained in
one big school; the purpose of the training was to make them
hardy, indifferent to pain, and submissive to discipline. There
was no nonsense about cultural or scientific education; the sole
aim was to produce good soldiers, wholly devoted to the State.

At the age of twenty, actual military service began. Marriage
uas permitted to anyone over the age of twenty, but until the
age of thirty a man had to live in the "men's house," and had to
manage his marriage as if it were an illicit and secret affair. After
thirty, he was a full-fledged citizen. Every citizen belonged to a
mess, and dined with the other members; he had to make a
contribution in kind from the produce of his lot. It was the theory
of the State that no Spartan citizen should be destitute, and none
should be rich. Each was expected to live on the produce of his
lot, which lie could not alienate except by free gift. None was
allowed to own gold or silver, and the money was made of iron.
Spartan simplicity became proverbial.

The position of women in Sparta was peculiar. They were not
secluded, like respectable women elsewhere in Greece. Girls went
through the same 'physical training as was given to boys; what is
more remarkable, boys and girls did their gymnastics together,

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

all being naked. It was desired (I quote Plutarch's Lycurgus in
North's translation):

that the maidens should harden their bodies with exercise of
running, wrestling, throwing the bar, and casting the dart, to the
end that the fruit wherewith they might be afterwards con-
ceived, taking nourishment of a strong and lusty body, should
shoot out and spread the better: and that they by gathering
strength thus by exercises, should more easily away with the
pains of child bearing. . . . And though the maidens did show
themselves thus naked openly, yet was there no dishonesty seen
nor offered, but all this sport was full of play and toys, without
any youthful part or wantonness.

Men who would not marry were made "infamous by law/* and
compelled, even in the coldest weather, to walk up and down
naked outside the place where the young people were doing their
exercises and dances.

Women were not allowed to exhibit any emotion not profitable
to the State. They might display contempt for a coward, and
would be praised if he were their son; but they might not show
grief if their new-born child was condemned to death as a weakling,
or if their sons were killed in battle. They were considered, by
other Greeks, exceptionally chaste; at the same time, a childless
married woman would raise no objection if the State ordered her
to find out whether some other man would be more successful
than her husband in begetting citizens. Children were encouraged
by legislation. According to Aristotle, the father of three sons was
exempt from military service, and the father of four from all the
burdens of the State.

The constitution of Sparta was complicated. There were two
kings, belonging to two different families, and succeeding by
heredity. One or other of the kings commanded the army in time
of war, but in time of peace their powers were limited. At com-
munal feasts they got twice as much to eat as any one else, and
there was general mourning when one of them died. They were
members of the Council of Klders, a body consisting of thirty
men (including the kings); the other twenty-eight must be over
sixty, and were chosen for life by the whole body of the citizens,
but only from aristocratic families. The Council tried criminal
cases, and prepared matters which were to 'come before the
Assembly. This body (the Assembly) consisted of all the citizens ;

116

THE INFLUENCE OF SPARTA

it could not initiate anything, but could vote yes or no to any
proposal brought before it. No law could be enacted without
its consent. But its consent, though necessary, was not sufficient ;
the elders and magistrates must proclaim the decision before it
became valid.

In addition to the kings, the Council of Elders, and the
Assembly, there was a fourth branch of the government, peculiar
to Sparta. This was the five ephors. These were chosen out of the
whole body of the citizens, by a method which Aristotle says was
"too childish," and which Bury says was virtually by lot. They
were a "democratic11 element in the constitution,1 apparently
intended to balance the kings. Every month the kings swore to
uphold the constitution, and the ephors then swore to uphold the
kings so long as they remained true to their oath. When either
king went on a warlike expedition, two ephors accompanied him
to watch over his behaviour. The ephors were the supreme civil
court, but over the kings they had criminal jurisdiction.

The Spartan constitution was supposed, in later antiquity, to
have been due to a legislator named Lycurgus, who was said to
have promulgated his laws in 885 B.C. In fact, the Spartan system
grew up gradually, and Lycurgus was a mythical person, originally
a god. His name meant "wolf-repcller," and his origin was
Arcadian.

Sparta aroused among the other Greeks an admiration which
is to us somewhat surprising. Originally, it had been much less
different from other Greek cities than it became later; in early
days it produced ports and artists as good as those elsewhere.
But about the seventh century B.C., or perhaps even later, its con-
stitution (falsely attributed to Lycurgus) crystallized into the form
we have been considering; everything else was sacrificed to success
in war, and Sparta ceased to have any part whatever in what
Greece contributed to the civilization of the world. To us, the
Spartan State appears as a model, in miniature, of the State that
the Nazis would establish if victorious. To the Greeks it seemed
otherwise. As Bury says:

A stranger from Athens or Miletus in the fifth century visiting
the straggling villages which formed her unwalled unpretentious

1 In speaking of " Jemocratie" elements in the Spartan constitution, one
must of course remember that the citizens as a whole were a ruling class
fiercely tyrannizing over the helots, and allowing no power to die perioeci.

117

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

city must have bad a feeling of being transported into an age
long past, when men were braver, better and simpler, unspoiled
by wealth,. undisturbed by ideas. To a philosopher, like Plato,
speculating in political science, the Spartan State seemed the
nearest approach to the ideal. The ordinary Greek looked upon
it as a structure of severe and simple beauty, a Dorian city stately
as a Dorian temple, far nobler than his own abode but not so
comfortable to dwell in.1

One reason for the admiration felt for Sparta by other Greeks
was its stability. All other Greek cities had revolutions, but the
Spartan constitution remained unchanged for centuries, except
for a gradual increase in the powers of the ephors, which occurred
by legal means, without violence.

It cannot be denied that, for a long period, the Spartans were
successful in their main purpose, the creation of a race of invincible
warriors. The battle of Thermopylae (480 B.C.), though technically
a defeat, is perhaps the best example of their valour. Thermopylae
was a narrow pass through the mountains, where it was hoped
that the Persian army could be held. Three hundred Spartans,
with auxiliaries, repulsed all frontal attacks. Hut at last the Persians
discovered a detour through the hills, and succeeded in attacking
the Greeks on both sides at once. Every single Spartan was killed
at his post. Two men had been absent on sick leave, suffering
from a disease of the eyes amounting almost to ternporar} blind-
ness. One of them insisted on being led by his helot to the battle,
where he perished; the other, Aristodemus, decided that lie was
too ill to fight, and remained absent. When he returned to Sparta,
no one would speak to him; he was called "the coward ArLsto-
demus." A year later, he wiped out his disgrace by dying bravely
at the battle of Plataea, where the Spartans were victorious.

After the war, the Spartans erected a memorial on the battlefield
of Thermopylae, saying only: "Stranger, tell the Lacedaemonians
that we lie here, in obedience to their orders/'

For a long time, the Spartans proved themselves invincible on
land. They retained their supremacy until the year 371 B.C., when
they were defeated by the Thebans at the battle of Lcuctra. This
was the end of their military greatness.

Apart from war, the reality of Sparta was never quite the same
as the theory. Herodotus, who lived at its great period, remarks,
1 History of Greece t Vol. I, p. 141.

THE INFLUENCE OF SPARTA

surprisingly, that no Spartan could resist a bribe. This was in spite
of the fact that contempt for riches and love of the simple life was
one of the main things inculcated in Spartan education. We are
told that the Spartan women were chaste, yet it happened several
times that a reputed heir to the kingship was set aside on the
ground of not being the son of his mother's husband. We are told
that the Spartans were inflexibly patriotic, yet the king Pausanias,
the victor of Plataea, ended as a traitor in the pay of Xerxes.
Apart from such flagrant matters, the policy of Sparta was always
petty and provincial. When Athens liberated the Greeks of Asia
Minor and the adjacent islands from the Persians, Sparta held
aloof; so long as the Peloponnesus was deemed safe, the fate of
other (ireeks was a matter of indifference. Every attempt at a
confederation of the Hellenic world was defeated by Spartan
particularism.

Aristotle, who lived after the downfall of Sparta, gives a very
hostile account of its constitution.1 What he says is so different
from what other people say that it is difficult to believe he is
speaking of the same place, e.g. "The legislator wanted to make
the whole State hardy and temperate, and he has carried out his
intention in the case of men, but he has neglected the women,
who live in even* sort of intemperance and luxury. The conse-
quence is that in such a State wealth is too highly valued, especially
if the citixcns fall under the dominion of their wives, after the
manner of most warlike races. . . . Even in regard to courage,
which is of no use in daily life, and is needed only in war, the
influence of the I^iccdaemonian women has been most mischievous.
. . . This license of the Lacedaemonian women existed from the
earliest times, and was only what might be expected. For . . .
when I.vcurgus, as tradition says, wanted to bring the women
under his laws, they resisted, and he gave up the attempt."

1 le goes on to accuse Spartans of avarice, which he attributes
to the unequal distribution of property. Although lots cannot be
sold, he says, they can be given or bequeathed. Two-fifths of all
the land, he adds, belongs to women. The consequence is a great
diminution in the number of citizens: it is said that once there
were ten thousand, but at the time of the defeat by Thebes there
were less than one thousand.

Aristotle criticfccs every point of the Spartan constitution. He
, Vol. II, Q ( 126911- 1 270A).

IK)

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

says that the ephors are often very poor, and therefore easy to
bribe ; and their power is so great that even kings are compelled
to court them, so that the constitution has been turned into a
democracy. The ephor?, we are told, have too much licence, and
live in a manner contrary to the spirit of the constitution, while
the strictness in relation to ordinary citizens is so intolerable that
they take refuge in the secret illegal indulgence of sensual pleasures.

Aristotle wrote when Sparta was decadent, but on some points
he expressly says that the evil he is mentioning has existed from
early times. His tone is so dry and realistic that it is difficult to
disbelieve him, and it is in line with all modern experience of the
results of excessive severity in the laws. But it was not Aristotle's
Sparta that persisted in men's imagination; it was the mythical
Sparta of Plutarch and the philosophic idealization of Sparta in
Plato's Republic. Century after century, young men read these
works, and were fired with the ambition to become Lycurguses
or philosopher-kings. The resulting union of idealism and love of
power has led men astray over and over again, and is still doing so
in the present day.

The myth of Sparta, for medieval and modern readers, was
mainly fixed by Plutarch. When he wrote, Sparta belonged to the
romantic past ; its great period was as far removed from his time
as Columbus is from ours. What he says must IK* treated with
great caution by the historian of institutions, but to the historian
of myth it is of the utmost importance. Greece has influenced the
world, always, through its effect on men's imaginations, ideals,
and hopes, not directly through political power. Rome made roads
which largely still survive, and la\v> which are the source of many
modern legal codes, but it was the armies of Rome that made these
things important. The Greeks, though admirable fighters, made
few conquests, because they expended their military fury mainly
on each other. It was left to the semi-barbarian Alexander to spread
Hellenism throughout the Near Kast, and to make Greek the
literary language in Kgypt and Syria and the inland parts of Asia
Minor. The Greeks could never have accomplished this task, not
for lack of military force, but owing to their incapacity for
political cohesion. The political vehicles of Hellenism have always
been non-Hellenic; but it was the Greek genius that so inspired
alien nations as to cause them to spread the* culture of those
whom they had conquered.

120

THE INFLUENCE OF SPARTA

What is important to the historian of the world is not the petty
wars between Greek cities, or the sordid squabbles for party
ascendancy, but the memories retained by mankind when the
brief episode was ended— like the recollection of a brilliant sunrise
in the Alps, while the mountaineer struggles through an arduous
day of wind and snow. These memories, as they gradually faded,
left in men's minds the images of certain peaks that had shone
with peculiar brightness in the early light, keeping alive the
knowledge that behind the clouds a splendour still survived, and
might at any moment become manifest. Of these, Plato was the
most important in early Christianity, Aristotle in the medieval
Church; hut when, after the Renaissance, men began to value
political freedom, it was above all to Plutarch that they turned.
I le influenced profoundly the English and French liberals of the
eighteenth century, and the founders of the United States; he
influenced the romantic movement in Germany, and has con-
tinued, mainly by indirect channels, to influence German thought
down to the present day. In some ways his influence was good,
in some bad; as regards Lycurgus and Sparta, it was bad. What
he has to say about Lycurgus is important, and I shall give a brief
account of it, even at the cost of some repetition.

Lycurgus — so Plutarch says — having resolved to give laws to
Sparta, travelled widely in order to study different institutions.
He liked the laws of Crete, which were "very straight and severe,"1
but disliked tho.se of Ionia, where there were "superfluities and
vanities.*' In Kgypt he learned the advantage of separating the
soldiers from the rest of the people, and afterwards, having
returned from his travels, "brought the practice of it into Sparta:
where setting the merchants, artificers, and labourers every one
a part by themselves, he did establish a noble Commonwealth."
He nude an equal division of hinds among all the citizens of Sparta
in order to "banish out of the city all insolvency, envy, covetous-
ness, and dcliciousness, and also all riches and poverty." He for-
bade gold and silver money, allowing only iron coinage, of so
little value that "to lay up thereof the value often minas, it would
have occupied a whole cellar in a house." By this means he
banished "all superfluous and unprofitable sciences," since there
was not enough money to pay their practitioners; and by the
same law he made'all external commerce impossible. Rhetoricians,
N ' In quoting Plutarch I use North's translation.
121

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

panders, and jewellers, not liking the iron money, avoided Sparta.
He next ordained that all the citizens should eat together, and all
should have the same food.

Lycurgus, like other reformers, thought the education of children
"the chiefest and greatest matter, that a reformer of laws should
establish"; and like all who aim chiefly nt military power, he was
anxious to keep up the birth rate. The M plays, sports, and dances
the maids did naked before young men, were provocations to draw
and allure the young men to marry: not as persuaded by geo-
metrical reasons, as saith Plato, but brought to it by liking, and of
very love." The habit of treating a marriage, for the first few years,
as if it were a clandestine affair, "continued in both parties a still
burning love, and a new desire of the one to the other" — such, at
least, is the opinion of Plutarch. He goes on to explain that a man
was not thought ill of if, being old and having a young wife, he
allowed a younger man to have children by her. "It was lawful
also for an honest man that loved another man's wife ... to intreat
her husband to suffer him to lie with her, and that he might also
plough in that lusty ground, anj e^t abroad the seed of well-
favoured children." There was to be no foolish jealousy, for
"Lycurgus did not like that children should be private to any
men, but that they should be common to the common weal: by
which reason he would also, that such as should become citizens
should not be begotten of every man, but of the most honest
men only." He goes on to explain that this is the principle that
farmers apply to their live-stock.

When a child was born, the father brought him before the
elders of his family to be examined: if he was healthy, he was
given back to the father to he reared; if not, he was thrown into
a deep pit of water. Children, from the first, were subjected to a
severe hardening process, in some respects good — for example,
they were not put in swaddling clothes. At the age of seven, boys
were taken away from home and put in a boarding school, where
they were divided into companies, each under the orders of one
of their number, chosen for sense and courage. "Touching learning,
they had as much as served their turn: for the rest of their time
they spent in learning how to obey, to away with pain, to endure
labour, to overcome still in fight." They played naked together
most of the time; after twelve years old, they wf>re no coals; they
were always "nasty and sluttish," and they never bathed except

122

THE INFLUENCE OF SPARTA

on certain days in the year. They slept on beds of straw, which
in winter they mixed with thistle. They were taught to steal, and
were punished if caught— not for stealing, but for stupidity.

Homosexual love, male if not female, was a recognized
custom in Sparta, and had an acknowledged part in the education
of adolescent boys. A boy's lover suffered credit or discredit by
the boy's actions; Plutarch states that once, when a boy cried out
because he was hurt in fighting, his lover was fined for the boy's
cowardice.

There was little liberty at any stape in the life of a Spartan.

Their discipline and order of life continued still, after they
were full grown men, For it was not lawful for any man to live
as he listed, but they were within tlieir city, as if they had been in
a camp, where every man knoweth what allowance he hath to live
withal, and what business he hath else to do in his calling. To be
short, they were all of this mind, that they were not born to serve
themselves, but to serve their country. . . . One of the best and
happit-st things which Lycurpus ever brought into his city, was
the preat rest and leisure which he made his citizens to have, only
forhiddini; them that they should not profess any vile or base
occupation: and they needed not also to be careful to get great
riches, in a place where goods were nothing profitable nor esteemed.
For the 1 lelots, which were bond men made by the wars, did till
their grounds, and yielded them a certain revenue every year.

Plutarch goes on to tell a story of an Athenian condemned for
idleness, upon hearing of which a Spartan exclaimed: "show me
the man condemned for living nobly and like a gentleman."

Lycurijus (Plutarch continues) "did accustom his citizens so,
that they neither would nor could live alone, but were in manner
as men incorporated one with another, and were always in company
together, as the bees be about their master bee."

Spartans were not allowed to travel, nor were foreigners admitted
to Sparta, except on business; for it was feared that alien customs
uould corrupt Lacedaemonian virtue.

Plutarch relates the law that allowed Spartans to kill helots
whenever they felt so disposed, but refuses to believe that any-
thing so abominable can have been due to Lycurgus. "For I
cannot be persuaded, that ever Lycurgus invented, or instituted
so wicked and mischievous an act, as that kind of ordinance was:
because I imagine his nature was gentle and merciful, by the

123

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

clemency and justice we see he used in- all his other doings/*
Except in this matter Plutarch has nothing but praise for the
constitution of Sparta.

The effect of Sparta on Plato, with whom, at the moment, we
shall be specially concerned, will be e\ident from the account of
his Utopia, which will occupy the next chapter.

124

Chapter XIII
THE SOURCES OF PLATO'S OPINIONS

PLATO and Aristotle were the most influential of all philo-
sophers, ancient, medieval, or modern; and of the two, it
was Plato who had the greater effect upon subsequent ages.
I say this for two reasons: first, that Aristotle himself is an out-
come of Plato; second, that Christian theology and philosophy, at
any rate until the thirteenth century, was much more Platonic
than Aristotelian. It is necessary therefore, in a history of philo-
sophic thought, to treat Plato, and to a lesser degree Aristotle,
more fully than any of their predecessors or successors.

The most important matters in Plato's philosophy are: fast, his
Utopia, which was the earliest of a long series; second, his theory
of ideas, which was a pioneer attempt to deal with the still unsolved
problem of universal*; third, his arguments in favour of immor-
tality; fourth, his cosmogony; fifth, his conception of knowledge
as reminiscence rather than perception. But before dealing with
any of these topics, I shall say a few words about the circumstances
of his life and the influences which determined his political and
philosophical opinions.

Plato was born in 428-7 B.C., in the early years of the Pelo-
ponncsian War. He was a well-to-do aristocrat, related to various
people who were concerned in the rule of the Thirty Tyrants. He
was a young man when Athens was defeated, and he could attribute
the defeat to democracy, which his social position and his family
connections were likely to make him despise. He was a pupil of
Socrates, for whom he had a profound affection and respect; and
Socrates was put to death by the democracy. It is not, therefore,
surprising that he should turn to Sparta for an adumbration of
his ideal commonwealth. Plato possessed the an to dress up
illiberal suggestions in such a way that they deceived future ages,
which admired the Republic without ever becoming aware of what
was involved in its proposals. It has always been correct to praise
Plato, but not to understand him. This is the common fate of
great men. My object is the opposite. I wish to understand hiiiL
but to treat him vrith as little reverence as if he were a corirern-
porary Knclish or American advocate of totalitarianism. ,*y? Or

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

The purely philosophical influences on Plato were also such as
to predispose him in favour of Sparta. These influences, speaking
broadly, were: Pythagoras, Parmenides, Heraclitus, and Socrates.

From Pythagoras (whether by way of Socrates or not) Plato
derived the Orphic elements in his philosophy: the religious trend,
the belief in immortality, the other-worldliness, the priestly tone,
and all that is involved in the simile of the cave; also his respect
for mathematics, and his intimate intermingling of intellect and
mysticism.

From Parmenides he derived the belief that reality is eternal
and timeless, and that, on logical grounds, all change* must be
illusory.

From Heraclitus he derived the negative doctine that there is
nothing permanent in the sensible world. This, combined with the
doctrine of Parmenides, led to the conclusion that knowledge is
not to be derived from the senses, but is only to be achieved by
the intellect. This, in turn, fitted in well with Pythagoreanism.

From Socrates he probably learnt his preoccupation with
ethical problems, and his tendency to seek teleological rather than
mechanical explanations of the world. "The Good" dominated his
thought more than that of the pre-Socratics, and it is difficult not
to attribute this fact to the influence of Socrates.

How is all this connected with authoritarianism in politics ?

In the first place: Goodness and Reality being timeless, the best
State will be the one which most nearly copies the heavenly model,
by having a minimum of change and a maximum of static perfec-
tion, and its rulers should be those who best understand the
eternal Good.

In the second place: Plato, like all mystics, has, in his beliefs,
a core of certainty which is essentially incommunicable except by
a way of life. The Pythagoreans had endeavoured to set up a rule
of the initiate, and this is, at bottom, what Plato desires. If a man
is to be a good statesman, he must know the Good; this he can
only do by a combination of intellectual and moral discipline.
If those who have not gone through this discipline are allowed a
share in the government, they will inevitably corrupt it.

In the third place: much education is needed to make a good

''er on Plato's principles. It seems to us unwise to have insisted

chtng geometry to the younger Dion VMusJ tyrant of Syracuse,

r to make him a good king, but from Plato's point of view

126

THE SOURCES OF PLATO'S OPINIONS

it was essential. He was sufficiently Pythagorean to think that
without mathematics no true wisdom is possible. This view implies
an oligarchy.

In the fourth place: Plato, in common with most Greek philo-
sophers, took the view that leisure is essential to wisdom, which
will therefore not be found among those who have to work for
their living, but only among those who have independent means
or who are relieved by the State from anxieties as to their sub-
sistence. This point of view is essentially aristocratic.

Two general questions arise in confronting Plato with modern
ideas. The first is: is there such a thing as "wisdom"? The second
is: granted that there is such a thing, can any constitution be
devised that will give it political power?

"Wisdom," in the sense supposed, would not be any kind of
specialized skill, such as is possessed by the shoemake- or the
physician or the military tactician. It must be something more
generali/cd than this, since its possession is supposed to make a
man capable of governing wisely. I think Plato would have said
that it consists in knowledge of the good, and would have supple-
mented this definition with the Socratic doctrine that no man
Mns wittingly, from which it follows that whoever knows what is
good does what is right. To us, such a view seems remote from
reality. We should more naturally say that there are divergent
interests, and that the statesman should arrive at the best available
compromise. The members of a class or a nation may have a
common interest, but it will usually conflict with the interests of
other classes or other nations. There are, no doubt, some interests
of mankind as a whole, but they do not suffice to determine political
action. Perhaps they will do so at some future date, but certainly
not so long as there are many sovereign States. And even then the
most difficult part of the pursuit of the general interest would
consist in arriving at compromises among mutually hostile special
interests.

But even if we suppose that there is such a thing as "wisdom,"
is there any form of constitution which will give the government
to the wise? It is clear that majorities, like general councils, may
err, and in fact have erred. Aristocracies are not always wise; kings
are often foolish ; Popes, in spite of infallibility, have committed
grievous errors. Wduld anybody advocate entrusting the govern-
ment to university graduates, or even to doctors of divinity? Or

127

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

to men who, having been born poor, have made great fortunes?
It is clear that no legally definable selection of citizens is likely to
be wiser, in practice, than the whole body.

It might be suggested that men could be given political wisdom
by a suitable training. But the question would arise: what is a
suitable training? And this would turn out to be a party question.

The problem of finding a collection of "wise" men and leaving
the government to them is thus an insoluble one. That is the
ultimate reason for democracy.

128

Chapter XIV
PLATO'S UTOPIA

PLATO'S most important dialogue, the Republic, consists,
broadly, of three parts. The first (to near the end of Book V)
consists in the construction of an ideal commonwealth ; it is
the earliest of Utopias.

One of the conclusions arrived at is that the rulers must be philo-
sophers. Books VI and VII are concerned to define the word
" philosopher." This discussion constitutes the second section.

The third section consists mainly of a discussion of various
kinds of actual constitutions and of their merits and defects.

The nominal purpose of the Republic is to define "justice." But
at an early stage it is decided that, since everything is easier to see
in the large than in the small, it will be better to inquire what
makes a just State than what makes a just individual. And since
justice must be among the attributes of the best imaginable State,
such a State is first delineated, and then it is decided which of its
perfections is to be called "justice."

Let us first describe Plato's Utopia in its broad outlines, and
then consider points that arise by the way.

Plato begins by deciding that the citizens are to be divided into
three classes: the common people, the soldiers, and the guardians.
'I 'he last, alone, are to have political power. There are to be much
fewer of them than of the other two classes. In the first instance,
it seems, they are to be chosen by the legislator; after that, they
will usually succeed by heredity, but in exceptional cases a pro-
mising child may be promoted from one of the inferior classes,
while among the children of guardians a child or young man who
is unsatisfactory may be degraded.

The main problem, as Plato perceives, is to insure that the
guardians shall carry out the intentions of the legislator. For this
purpose he has various proposals, educational, economic, biological,
and religious. It is not always clear how far these proposals apply
to other classes than the guardians; it is clear that some of them
apply to the soldiers, but in the main Plato is concerned only
with the guardians? who are to be a class apart, like the Jesuits in
old Paraguay, the ecclesiastics in the States of the Church until

1 19 *

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

1870, and the Communist Party in the U.S.S.R. at the present day.

The first thing to consider is education. This is divided into
two parts, music and gymnastics. Each has a wider meaning than
at present: "music" means everything that is in the province of
the muses, and "gymnastics" means everything concerned with
physical training and fitness. "Music" is almost as wide as what
we should call "culture/9 and "gymnastics" is somewhat wider
than what we call "athletics."

Culture is to be devoted to making men gentlemen, in the sense
which, largely owing to Plato, is familiar in England. The Athens
of his day was, in one respect, analogous to England in the nine-
teenth century: there was in each an aristocracy enjoying wealth
and social prestige, but having no monopoly of political power;
and in each the aristocracy had to secure as much power as it
could by means of impressive behaviour. In Plato's Utopia,
however, the aristocracy rules unchecked.

Gravity, decorum and courage seem to be the qualities mainly
to be cultivated in education. There is to be a rigid censorship
from very early years over the literature to which the young have
access and the music they are allowed to hear. Mothers and nurses
are to tell their children only authorized stories. Homer and
Hesiod are not to be allowed, for a number of reasons. First they
represent the gods as behaving badly on occasion, which is un-
edifying; the young must be taught that evils never come from
the gods, for God is not the author of all things, but only of good
things. Second, there are things in Homer and Hesiod which art-
calculated to make their readers fear death, whereas everything
ought to he done in education to make young people willing to
die in battle. Our boys must be taught to consider slavery worse
than death, and therefore they must have no stories of good men
weeping and wailing, even for the death of friends. Third, decorum
demands that there should never be loud laughter, and yet Homer
speaks of "inextinguishable laughter among the blessed gods/'
How is a schoolmaster to reprove mirth effectively, if boys can
quote this passage? Fourth, there are passages in Homer praising
rich feasts, and others describing the lusts of the gods; such
passages discourage temperance. (Dean Inge, a true Platonist,
objected to a line in a well-known hymn: "The shout of them
thai triumph, the song of them that feast/' which occurs in a
description of die joys of heaven.) Then there must be no stories

130

PLATO'S UTOPIA

in which the wicked are happy or the good unhappy; the moral
effect on tender minds might be most unfortunate. On all these
counts, the poets are to be condemned.

Plato passes on to a curious argument about the drama. The
good man, he says, ought to be unwilling to imitate a bad man;
now most plays contain villains; therefore the dramatist, and the
actor who plays the villain's part, have to imitate people guilty of
various crimes. Not only criminals, but women, slaves, and
inferiors generally, ought not to be imitated by superior men.
(In Greece, as in Elizabethan England, women's parts were acted
by men.) Plays, therefore, if permissible at all, must contain no
characters except faultless male heroes of good birth. The im-
possibility of this is so evident that Plato decides to banish all
dramatists from his city:

When any of these pantomimic gentlemen, who are so clever
that they can imitate anything, comes to us, and makes a proposal
to exhibit himself and his poetry, we will fall down and worship
him as a sweet and holy and wonderful being; but we must
also inform him that in our State such as he are not permitted to
exist ; the law will not allow them. And so when we have anointed
him with myrrh, and set a garland of wool upon his head, we shall
send him away to another city.

Next we come to the censorship of music (in the modern sense).
The Lydian and Ionian harmonies are to be forbidden, the first
because it expresses sorrow, the second because it is relaxed. Only
the Dorian (for courage) and the Phrygian (for temperance) are
to be allowed. Permissible rhythms must be simple, and such as
are expressive of a courageous and harmonious life.

The training of the body is to be very austere. No one is to eat
fish, or meat cooked otherwise than roasted, and there must be
no sauces or confectionery. People brought up on his regimen,
he says, will have no need of doctors.

Up to a certain age, the young are to sec no ugliness or vice.
But at a suitable moment, they must be exposed to "enchant-
ments/* both in the shape of terrors that must not terrify, and of
bad pleasures that must not seduce the will. Only after they have
withstood these tests will they be judged fit to be guardians.

Young boys, before they are grown up, should see war, though
they should not themselves fight.

As for economics: Plato proposes a thoroughgoing communism

'31

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

for the guardians, and (I think) also for the soldiers, though this
is not very clear. The guardians are to have small houses and
simple food ; they are to live as in a camp, dining together in com-
panies; they are to have no private property beyond what is
absolutely necessary. Gold and silver are to be forbidden. Though
not rich, there is no reason why they should not be happy; but
the purpose of the city is the good of the whole, not the happiness
of one class. Both wealth and poverty are harmful, and in Plato's
city neither will exist. There is a curious argument about war,
that it will be easy to purchase allies, since our city will not want
any share in the spoils of victory.

With feigned unwillingness, the Platonic Socrates proceeds to
apply his communism to the family. Friends, he says, should
have all things in common, including women and children. He
admits that this presents difficulties, but thinks them not insuper-
able. First of all, girls are to have exactly the same education as
boys, learning music, gymnastics, and the art of war along with
the boys. Women are to have complete equality with men in all
respects. "The same education which makes a man a good guardian
will make a woman a good guardian ; for their original nature is
the same." No doubt there are differences between men and
women, but they have nothing to do with politics. Some women
are philosophic, and suitable as guardians; some are warlike, and
could make good soldiers.

The legislator, having selected the guardians, some men and
some women, will ordain that they shall all share common houses
and common meals. Marriage, as we know it, will be radically
transformed.1 At certain festivals, brides and bridegrooms, in
such numbers as are required to keep the population constant,
mil be brought together, by lot, as they will be taught to believe;
but in fact the rulers of the city will manipulate the lots on eugenic
principles. They will arrange that the best sires shall have the
most children. All children will be taken away from their parents
at birth, and great care will be taken that no parents shall know
who are their children, and no children shall know who are their
parents. Deformed children, and children of inferior parents, "will
be put away in some mysterious unknown place, as they ought to
be." Children arising from unions not sanctioned by the State

1 "These women ahull be, without exception, the common wives of
these men, and no one shall have a wife of hit own."

'3*

PLATO'S UTOPIA

are to be considered illegitimate. Mothers are to be between
twenty and forty, fathers between twenty-five and fifty-five. Out-
side these ages, intercourse is to be free, but abortion or infanticide
is to be compulsory. In the "marriages" arranged by the State,
the people concerned have no voice; they are to be actuated by
the thought of their duty to the State, not by any of those common
emotions that the banished poets used to celebrate.

Since no one knows who his parents are, he is to call every one
"father" whose age is such that he might be his father, and
similarly as regards "mother" and "brother" and "sister." (This
sort of thing happens among some savages, and used to puzzle
missionaries.) There is to be no marriage between a "father" and
"daughter" or "mother" and "son" ; in general, but not absolutely,
marriages of "brother" and "sister" are to be prevented. (I think
if Plato had thought this out more carefully he would have found
that he had prohibited all marriages, except the "brother-sister"
marriages which he regards as rare exceptions.)

It is supposed that the sentiments at present attached to the
words "father," "mother," "son," and "daughter" will still attach
to them under Plato's new arrangements; a young man, for
instance, will not strike an old man, because he might be striking
his father.

The advantage sought is, of course, to minimize private pos-
sessive emotions, and so remove obstacles to the domination of
public spirit, as well as to acquiescence in the absence of private
property. It was largely motives of a similar kind that led to the
celibacy of the clergy.1

I come last to the theological aspect of the system. I am not
thinking of the accepted Greek gods, but of certain myths which
the government is to inculcate. Lying, Plato says explicitly, is to
be a prerogative of the government, just as giving medicine is of
physicians. The government, as we have already seen, is to
deceive people in pretending to arrange marriages by lot, but this
is not a religious matter.

There is to be "one royal lie," which, Plato hopes, may deceive
the rulers, but will at any rate deceive the rest of the city. This
"lie" is set forth in considerable detail. The most important part
of it is the dogma that God has created men of three kinds, the
best made of gold/ the second best of silver, and the common
1 Se^ Henry C. 1-ca, A History of Sacerdotal Celibacy.

133

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

herd of brass and iron. Those made of gold are fit to be guardians ;
those made of silver should be soldiers; the others should do the
manual work. Usually, but by no means always, children will
belong to the same grade as their parents ; when they do not, they
must be promoted or degraded accordingly. It is thought hardly
possible to make the present generation believe this myth, but the
next, and all subsequent generations, can be so educated as not
to doubt it

Plato is right in thinking that belief in this myth could be
generated in two generations. The Japanese have been taught
since 1868 that the Mikado is descended from the sun-goddess,
and that Japan was created earlier than the rest of the world. Any
university professor, who, even in a learned work, throws doubt
on these dogmas, is dismissed for un-Japanese activities. What
Plato does not seem to realize is that the compulsory acceptance
of such myths is incompatible with philosophy, and involves a
kind of education which stunts intelligence.

The definition of "justice/1 which is the nominal goal of the
whole discussion, is reached in Book IV. It consists, we are told,
in everybody doing his own work and not being a busybody: the
city is /urt when trader, auxiliary, and guardian, each does his
own job without interfering with that of other classes.

That everybody should mind his own business is no doubt an
admirable precept, but it hardly corresponds to what a modern
would naturally call "justice." The Greek word so translated
corresponded to a concept which was very important in Greek
thought, but for which we have no exact equivalent. It is worth
while to recall what Anaximander said:

Into that from which things take their rise they pass away once
more, as is ordained; for they make reparation and satisfaction to
one another for their injustice according to the appointed time.

Before philosophy began, the Greeks had a theory or feeling
about the universe, which may be called religious or ethical.
According to this theory, every person and every thing has his
or its appointed place and appointed function. This does not
depend upon the fiat of Zeus, for Zeus himself is subject to the
same kind of law as governs others. The theory is connected with
the idea of fate or necessity. It applies emphatitally to the heavenly
bodies. But where there is vigour, there is a tendency to overstep

'34

PLATO'S UTOPIA

just bounds; hence arises strife. Some kind of impersonal super-
Olympian law punishes hubris, and restores the eternal order
which the aggressor sought to violate. This whole outlook, ori-
ginally, perhaps, scarcely conscious, passed over into philosophy;
it is to be found alike in cosmologies of strife, such as those of
Heraclitus and Empedoclea, and in monistic doctrines such as
that of Parmenides. It is the source of the belief both in natural
and in human law, and it clearly underlies Plato's conception of
justice.

The word "justice," as still used in the law, is more similar to
Plato's conception than it is as used in political speculation. Under
the influence of democratic theory, we have come to associate
justice with equality: while for Plato it has no such implication.
"Justice," in the sense in which it is almost synonymous with
"law" — as when we speak of "courts of justice" — is concerned
mainly with property rights, which have nothing to do with
equality. The first suggested definition of "justice," at the be-
ginning of the Republic, is that it consists in paying debts. This
definition is soon abandoned as inadequate, but something of it
remains at the end.

There are several points to be noted about Plato's definition.
First, it makes it possible to have inequalities of power and
privilege without injustice. The guardians are to have all the power,
because they are the wisest members of the community; injustice
would only occur, on Plato's definition, if there were men in the
other classes who were wiser than some of the guardians. That is
why Plato provides for promotion and degradation of citizens,
although he thinks that the double advantage of birth and edu-
cation will, in most cases, make the children of guardians superior
to the children of others. If there were a more exact science of
government, and more certainty of men following its precepts,
there would be much to be said for Plato's system. No one thinks
it unjust to put the best men into a football team, although they
acquire thereby a great superiority. If football were managed as
democratically as the Athenian government the students to play
for their university would be chosen by lot. But in matters of
government it is difficult to know who has the most skill, and
very far from certain that a politician will use his skill in the
public interest rather than in his own or in that of his class or
party or crcfd.

135

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

The next point is that Plato's definition of "justice" presup-
poses a State organized either on traditional lines, or, like his own,
so as to realize, in its totality, some ethical ideal. Justice, we are
told, consists in every man doing his own job. But what is a man's
job? In a State which, like ancient Egypt or the kingdom of the
Incas, remains unchanged generation after generation, a man's
job is his father's job, and no question arises. But in Plato's State
no man has any legal father. His job, therefore, must be decided
either by his own tastes or by the State's judgment as to his
aptitudes. The latter is obviously what Plato would desire. But
some kinds of work, though highly skilled, may be deemed
pernicious ; Plato takes this view of poetry, and I should take it
of the work of Napoleon. The purposes of the Government,
therefore, are essential in determining what is a man's job. Al-
though all the rulers are to be philosophers, there are to be no
innovations: a philosopher is to be, for all time, a man who
understands and agrees with Plato.

When we ask: what will Plato's Republic achieve ? the answer
is rather humdrum. It will achieve success in wars against roughly
equal populations, and it will secure a livelihood for a certain
small number of people. It will almost certainly produce no art
or science, because of its rigidity; in this respect, as in others,
it will be like Sparta. In spite of all the fine talk, skill in war and
enough to eat is all that will be achieved. Plato had lived through
famine and defeat in Athens; perhaps, subconsciously, he thought
the avoidance of these evils the best that statesmanship could
accomplish.

A Utopia, if seriously intended, obviously must embody the
ideals of its creator. Let us consider, for a moment, what we can
mean by "ideals." In the first place, they are desired by those
who believe in them; but they are not desired quite in the same-
way as a man desires personal comforts, such as food and shelter.
What makes the difference between an "ideal" and an ordinary
object of desire is that the former is impersonal ; it is something
having (at least ostensibly) no special reference to the ego of the
man who feels the desire, and therefore capable, theoretically,
of being desired by everybody. Thus we might define an "ideal"
as something desired, not egocentric, and such that the person
desiring it wishes that every one else also deiircd it. I may wish
that everybody had enough to eat, that everybody felt kindly

•36

PLATO'S UTOPIA

towards everybody, and so on, and if I wish anything of this
kind I shall also wish others to wish it. In this way, I can build
up what looks like an impersonal ethic, although in fact it rests
upon the personal basis of my own desires — for the desire remains
mine, even when what is desired has no reference to myself.
For example, one man may wish that everybody understood
science, and another that everybody appreciated an; it is a per-
sonal difference between the two men that produces this difference
in their desires.

The personal element becomes apparent as soon as controversy
is involved. Suppose some man says: "You are wrong to wish
everybody to be happy; you ought to desire the happiness of
Germans and the unhappiness of everyone else." Here "ought"
may be taken to mean that that is what the speaker wishes me
to desire. I might retort that, not being German, it is psychologi-
cally impossible for me to desire the unhappiness of all non-
Germans ; but this answer seems inadequate.

Again, there may be a conflict of purely impersonal ideals.
Nietzsche's hero differs from a Christian saint, yet both are
impersonally admired, the one by Nietzscheans, the other by
Christians. How are we to decide between the two except by
means of our own desires? Yet, if there is nothing further, an
ethical disagreement can only be decided by emotional appeals,
or by force — in the ultimate resort, by war. On questions of
fact, we can appeal to science and scientific methods of obser-
vation; but on ultimate questions of ethics there seems to be
nothing analogous. Yet, if this is really the case, ethical disputes
resolve themselves into contests for power — including propaganda
power.

This point of view, in a crude form, is put forth in the first
book of the Republic by Thrasymachus, who, like almost all the
characters in Plato's dialogues, was a real person. He was a
Sophist from Chalcedon. and a famous teacher of rhetoric; he
appeared in the first comedy of Aristophanes, 427 B.C. After
Socrates has, for some time, been amiably discussing justice with
an old man named Cephalus, and with Plato's elder brothers
Glaucon and Adeimantus, Thrasymachus, who has been listening
with growing impatience, breaks in with a vehement protest
against such childish nonsense. He proclaims emphatically that
"justice is lathing else than the interest of the stronger."

'37

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

This point of view is refuted by Socrates with quibbles; it is
never fairly faced. It raises the fundamental question in ethics
and politics, namely: Is there any standard of "good" and "bad,"
except what the man using these words desires ? If there is not,
many of the consequences drawn by Thrasymachus seem unes-
capable. Yet how are we to say that there is ?

At this point, religion has, at first sight, a simple answer. God
determines what is good and what bad ; the man whose will is in
harmony with the will of God is a good man. Yet this answer is
not quite orthodox. Theologians say that God is good, and this
implies that there is a standard of goodness which is independent
of God's will. We are thus forced to face the question: Is there
objective truth or falsehood in such a statement as "pleasure
is good/' in the same sense as in such a statement as "snow is
white"?

To answer this question, a very long discussion would be
necessary. Some may think that we can, for practical purposes,
evade the fundamental issue, and say: "I do not know what is
meant by 'objective truth,' but I shall consider a statement 'true*
if all, or virtually all, of those who have investigated it are agreed
in upholding it." In this sense, it is "true" that snow is white.
that Caesar was assassinated, that water is composed of hydrogen
and oxygen, and so on. \Ve are then faced with a question of fact:
are there any similarly agreed statements in ethics? If there arc,
they can be made the basis both for rules of private conduct,
and for a theory of politics. If there are not, we are driven in
practice, whatever may be the philosophic truth, to a contest by
force or propaganda or both, whenever an irreconcilable ethical
difference exists between powerful groups.

For Plato, this question does not really exist. Although his
dramatic sense leads him to state the position of Thrasymachus
forcibly, he is quite unaware of its strength, and allows himself
to be grossly unfair in arguing against it. Plato is convinced that
there is "the Good," and that its nature can be ascertained;
when people disagree about it, one, at least, is making an intel-
lectual, error just as much as if the disagreement were a scientific
one on some matter of fact.

The difference between Plato and Thrasymachus is very impor-
tant, but for the historian of philosophy it is one to be only noted,
not decided. Plato thinks he can prove that his ideal ^Republic is

138

PLATO'S UTOPIA

good ; a democrat who accepts the objectivity of ethics may think
that he can prove the Republic bad; but anyone who agrees with
Thrasymachus will say: "There is no question of proving or
disproving; the only question is whether you like the kind of State
that Plato desires. If you do, it is good for you ; if you do not,
it is bad for you. If many do and many do not, the decision cannot
be made by reason, but only by force, actual or concealed." This
is one of the issues in philosophy that are still open ; on each side
there are men who command respect. But for a very long time
the opinion that Plato advocated remained almost undisputed.

It should be observed, further, that the view which substi-
tutes the consensus of opinion for an objective standard has
certain consequences that few would accept. What are we to say
of scientific innovators like Galileo, who advocate an opinion
with which few agree, but finally win the support of almost
everybody? They do so by means of arguments, not by emotional
appeals or state propaganda or the use of force. This implies
a criterion other than the general opinion. In ethical matters,
there is something analogous in the case of the great religious
teachers. Christ taught that it is not wrong to pluck ears of corn
on the Sabbath, but that it is wrong to hate your enemies. Such
ethical innovations obviously imply some standard other than
majority opinion, but the standard, whatever it is, is not objective
fact, as in a scientific question. This problem is a difficult one,
and I do not profess to be able to solve it. For the present, let us
be content to note it.

Plato's Republic, unlike modern Utopias, was perhaps intended
to be actually founded. This was not so fantastic or impossible as
it might naturally seem to us. Many of its provisions, including
some that we should have thought quite impracticable, were
actually realized at Sparta. The rule of philosophers had been
attempted by Pythagoras, and in Plato's time Archytas the
Pythagorean was politically influential in Taras (the modern
Taranto) when Plato visited Sicily and southern Italy. It was
a common practice for cities to employ a sage to draw up their
laws; Solon had done this for Athens, and Protagoras for Thurii.
Colonies, in those days, were completely free from control by
their parent cities, and it would have been quite feasible for a
band of Platonists to establish the Republic on the shores of Spain
or Gaul. Unfortunately chance led Plato to Syracuse, a great

139

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

commercial city engaged in desperate wars with Cartilage; in
such an atmosphere, no philosopher could have achieved much.
In the next generation, the rise of Macedonia had made all small
States antiquated, and had brought about the futility of all
political experiments in miniature.

140

Chapter XV
THE THEORY OF IDEAS

E I 1HE middle of the Republic, from the later part of Book V

I to the end of Book VII, is occupied mainly with questions

JL of pure philosophy, as opposed to politics. These questions

are introduced by a somewhat abrupt statement:

Until philosophers are kings, or the kings and princes of this .
world have the spirit and power of philosophy, and political great-
ness and wisdom meet in one, and those commoner natures who
pursue either to the exclusion of the other are compelled to stand
aside, cities will never have rest from these evils — no, nor the
human race, as I believe — and then only will this our State have
a possibility of life and behold the light of day.

If this is true, we must decide what constitutes a philosopher,
and what we mean by "philosophy." The consequent discussion
is the most famous part of the Republic, and has perhaps been the
most influential. It has, in parts, extraordinary literary beauty;
the reader may disagree (as 1 do) with what is said, but cannot
help being moved by it.

Plato's philosophy rests on the distinction between reality and
appearance, which was first set forth by Parmenides; throughout
the discussion with which we are now concerned, Parmenidean
phrases and arguments are constantly recurring. There is, however,
a religious tone about reality, which is rather Pythagorean than
Parmenidean ; and there is much about mathematics and music
which is directly traceable to the disciples of Pythagoras. This
combination of the logic of Parmenides with the other- worldliness
of Pythagoras and the Orphics produced a doctrine which was
felt to be satisfying to both the intellect and the religious emo-
tions ; the result was a very powerful synthesis, which, with various
modifications, influenced most of the great philosophers, down
to and including Hegel. But not only philosophers were influenced
by Plato. Why did the Puritans object to the music ag^^fiSUl
and gorgeous ritual of the Catholic Church ? Yoy^ff3u|VnSh<M)|

M^r \ ^^'*^*4^

answer in the tenth book of the Republic. \V\\wG*p> pMtoren 11
school compelled no learn arithmetic? The re^gnf/fire given ii
the seventh book.

141

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

The following paragraphs summarize Plato's theory of ideas.
Our question is: What is a philosopher? The first answer is in
accordance with the etymology : a philosopher is a lover of wisdom.
But this is not the same thing as a lover of knowledge, in the sense
in which an inquisitive man may be said to love knowledge ; vulgar
curiosity does not make a philosopher. The definition is therefore
amended : the philosopher is a man who loves the " vision of truth."
But what is this vision ?

Consider a man who loves beautiful things, who makes a point
of being present at new tragedies, seeing new pictures, and hearing
new music. Such a man is not a philosopher, because he loves
only beautiful things, whereas the philosopher loves beauty in
itself. The man who only loves beautiful things is dreaming,
whereas the man who knows absolute beauty is wide awake.
The former has only opinion ; the latter has knowledge.

What is the difference between "knowledge" and ''opinion"?
The man who has knowledge has knowledge of sometliing, that
is to say, of something that exists, for what does not exist is
nothing. (This is reminiscent of Parmenides.) Thus knowledge
is infallible, since it is logically impossible for it to be mistaken.
But opinion can be mistaken. How can this be? Opinion cannot
be of what is not, for that is impossible ; nor of what is, for then
it would be knowledge. Therefore opinion must be of what both
is and is not.

But how is this possible ? The answer is that particular things
always partake of opposite characters: what is beautiful is also,
in some respects, ugly; what is just is, in some respects, unjust;
and so on. All particular sensible objects, so Plato contends, have
this contradictory character; they are thus intermediate between
being and not-being, and are suitable as objects of opinion, but
not of knowledge. "But those who see the absolute and eternal
and immutable may be said to know, and not to have opinion only."
Thus we arrive at the conclusion that opinion is of the world
presented to the senses, whereas knowledge is of a super-sensible
eternal world; for instance, opinion is concerned with particular
beautiful things, but knowledge is concerned with beauty in
itself.

The only argument advanced is that it is self-contradictory to
suppose that a thing can be both beautiful and not beautiful, or

both just and not just, and that nevertheless particular things

f
142

THE THEORY OF IDEAS

seem to combine such contradictory characters. Therefore par-
ticular things are not real. Heraclitus had said "We step and do
not step into the same rivers; we are and are not." By combining
this with Parmenides we arrive at Plato's result.

There is, however, something of great importance in Plato's
doctrine which is not traceable to his predecessors, and that is
the theory of "ideas" or "forms." This theory is partly logical,
partly metaphysical. The logical part has to do with the meaning
of general words. There are many individual animals of whom we
can truly say "this is a cat." What do we mean by the word "cat" ?
Obviously something different from each particular cat. An
animal is a cat, it would seem, because it participates in a general
nature common to all cats. Language cannot get on without
general words such as "cat," and such words are evidently not
meaningless. But if the word "cat" means anything, it means
something which is not this or that cat, but some kind of universal
cattiness. This is not born when a particular cat is born, and
does not die when it dies. In fact, it has no position in space or
time; it is "eternal." This is the logical part of the doctrine.
The arguments in its favour, whether ultimately valid or not, are
strong, and quite independent of the metaphysical part of the
doctrine.

According to the metaphysical part of the doctrine, the word
"cat" means a certain ideal cat, "the cat," created by God, and
unique. Particular cats partake of the nature of the cat, but more
or less imperfectly; it is only owing to this imperfection that
there can be many of them. The cat is real ; particular cats are
only apparent.

In the last book of the Republic, as a preliminary to a condemna-
tion of painters, there is a very clear exposition of the doctrine of
ideas or forms.

Here Plato explains that, whenever a number of individuals
have a common name, they have also a common "idea" or "form."
For instance, though there are many beds, there is only one
"idea" or. "form" of a bed. Just as a reflection of a bed in a mirror
is only apparent and not "real," so the various particular beds
are unreal, being only copies of the "idea," which is the one real
bed, and is made by God. Of this one bed, made by God, there
cm be knowledge, but in respect of the many beds made by
carpenters there can be only opinion. The philosopher, as such,

'43

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

will be interested only in the one ideal bed, not in the many beds
found in the sensible world. He will have a certain indifference
to ordinary mundane affairs: "how can he who has magnificence
of mind and is the spectator of all time and all existence, think
much of human life?" The youth who is capable of becoming
a philosopher will be distinguished among his fellows as just and
gentle, fond of learning, possessed of a good memory and a
naturally harmonious mind. Such a one shall be educated into
a philosopher and a guardian.

At this point Adeimantus breaks in with a protest. When he tries
to argue with Socrates, he says, he feels himself led a little astray
at each step, until, in the end, all his former notions are turned
upside down. But whatever Socrates may say, it remains the case,
as any one can see, that people who stick to philosophy become
strange monsters, not to say utter rogues ; even the best of them
are made useless by philosophy.

Socrates admits that this is true in the world as it is, but main-
tains that it is the other people who are to blame, not the philo-
sophers; in a wise community the philosophers would not seem
foolish; it is only among fools that the wise are judged to be
destitute of wisdom.

What are we to do in this dilemma ? There were to have been
two ways of inaugurating our Republic: by philosophers becoming
rulers, or by rulers becoming philosophers. The first way seems
impossible as a beginning, because in a city not already philo-
sophic the philosophers are unpopular. But a born prince might
be a philosopher, and "one is enough; let there be one man who
has a city obedient to his will, and he might bring into existence
the ideal polity about which the world is so incredulous." Plato
hoped that he had found such a prince in the younger Dionysius,
tyrant of Syracuse, but the young man turned out disappointingly.
In the sixth and seventh books of the Republic, Plato is concerned
with two questions: First, what is philosophy? Second, how can a
young man or woman, of suitable temperament, be so educated
as to become a philosopher ?

Philosophy, for Plato, is a kind of vision, the "vision of truth."
It is not purely intellectual ; it is not merely wisdom, but low of
wisdom. Spinoza's "intellectual love of God" is much the same
intimate union of thought and feeling. Every 6ne who has done
any kind of creative work has experienced, in a greater or less

144

THE THEORY OP IDEAS

degree, the state of mind in which, after long labour, truth or
beauty appears, or seems to appear, in a sudden glory — it may
be only about some small matter, or it may be about the universe.
The experience is, at the moment, very convincing; doubt may
come later, but at the time there is utter certainty. I think most
of the best creative work, in art, in science, in literature, and in
philosophy, has been the result of such a moment. Whether it
comes to others as to me, I cannot say. For my pan, I have found
that, when I wish to write a book on some subject, I must first
soak myself in detail, until all the separate parts of the subject-
matter are familiar; then, some day, if I am fortunate, I perceive
the whole, with all its parts duly interrelated. After that, I only
have to write down what I have seen. The nearest analogy is
first walking all over a mountain in a mist, until every path and
ridge and valley is separately familiar, and then, from a distance,
seeing the mountain whole and clear in bright sunshine.

This experience, I believe, is necessary to good creative work,
but it is not sufficient; indeed the subjective certainty that it
brings with it may be fatally misleading. William James describes
a man who got the experience from laughing-gas; whenever he
was under its influence, he knew the secret of the universe, but
when he came to, he had forgotten it. At last, with immense
effort, he wrote down the secret before the vision had faded.
When completely recovered, he rushed to see what he had written.
It was: "A smell of petroleum prevails throughout." What seems
like sudden insight may be misleading, and must be tested soberly,
when the divine intoxication has passed.

Plato's vision, which he completely trusted at the time when he
wrote the Republic, needs ultimately the help of a parable,
the parable of the cave, in order to convey its nature to the
reader. Rut it is led up to by various preliminary discussions,
designed to make the reader see the necessity of the world of
ideas.

First, the world of the intellect is distinguished from the world
of the senses ; then intellect and sense-perception are in turn each
divided into two kinds. The two kinds of sense-perception need
not concern us ; the two kinds of intellect are called, respectively,
"reason" and "understanding." Of these, reason is the higher
kind ; it is concerned with pure ideas, and its method is dialectic.
Understanding is the kind of intellect that is used in mathematics;

»45

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

it is inferior to reason in that it uses hypotheses which it cannot
test. In geometry, for example, we say: "Let ABC be a rectilinear
triangle." It is against the rules to ask whether ABC really is
a rectilinear triangle, although, if it is a figure that we have drawn,
we may be sure that it is not, because we can't draw absolutely
straight lines. Accordingly, mathematics can never tell us what u,
but only what would be if. ... There are no straight lines in the
sensible world; therefore, if mathematics is to have more than
hypothetical truth, we must find evidence for the existence of
super-sensible straight lines in a super-sensible world. This
cannot be done by the understanding, but according to Plato
it can be done by reason, which shows that there is a rectilinear
triangle in heaven, of which geometrical propositions can be
affirmed categorically, not hypothetically.

There is, at this point, a difficulty which did not escape Plato's
notice, and was evident to modern idealistic philosophers.
We saw that God made only one bed, and it would he natural
to suppose that he made only one straight line. But if there is a
heavenly triangle, he must have made at least three straight lines.
Theobjects of geometry, though ideal, must exist in manycxamples ;
we need the possibility of two intersecting circles , and so on.
This suggests that geometry, on Plato's theory, should not be
capable of ultimate truth, but should be condemned as part of
the study of appearance. We will, however, ignore this point,
as to which Plato's answer is somewhat obscure.

Plato seeks to explain the difference between clear intellectual
vision and the confused vision of sense-perception by an analogy
from the sense of sight. Sight, he says, differs from the other senses,
since it requires not only the eye and the object, hut also light.
We see clearly objects on which the sun shines: in twilight we
see confusedly, and in pitch-darkness not at all. Now the world
of ideas is what we see when the object is illumined by the sun,
while the world of passing things is a confused twilight world.
The eye is compared to the soul, and the sun, as the source of
light, to truth or goodness.

The soul is like an eye: when resting upon that on which truth
and being shine, the soul perceives and understands, and is radiant
with intelligence; but when turned towards the twilight of be-
coming and perishing, then she has opinion onfy, and goes blinking
about, and is first of one opinion and then of another, and seems to

146

THE THEORY OP IDEAS

have no intelligence. . . . Now what imparts truth to the known
and the power of knowing to the knower is what I would have
you term the idea of good, and this you will deem to be the cause
of science.

This leads up to the famous simile of the cave or den, according
to which those who are destitute of philosophy may be compared
to prisoners in a cave, who are only able to look in one direction
because they are bound, and who have a fire behind them and
a wall in front. Between them and the wall there is nothing;
all that they see are shadows of themselves, and of objects behind
them, cast on the wall by the light of the fire. Inevitably they
regard these shadows as real, and have no notion of the objects
to which they are due. At last some man succeeds in escaping
from the cave to the light of the sun ; for the first time he sees
real things, and becomes aware that he had hitherto been deceived
by shadows. If he is the sort of philosopher who is fit to become
a guardian, he will feel it his duty to those who were formerly
his fellow-prisoners to go down again into the cave, instruct
them as to the truth, and show them the way up. But he will have
difficulty in persuading them, because, coming out of the sunlight,
he will sec shadows less clearly than they do, and will seem to
them stupider than before his escape.

"And now, I said, let me show in a figure how far our nature is
enlightened or unenlightened : — Behold! human beings living in
an underground den, which has a mouth open toward the light
and reaching all along the den; here they have been from their
childhood, and have their legs and necks chained so that they
cannot move, and can only see before them, being prevented by
the chains from turning round their heads. Above and behind
them a fire is blazing at a distance, and between the fire and the
prisoners there is a raised way ; and you will see, if you look, a low
wall built along the way, like the screen which marionette players
have in front of them, over which they show the puppets.

"I see.

"And do you sec, I said, men passing along the wall carrying all
sorts of vessels, and statues and figures of animals made of wood
and stone and various materials, which appear over the wall ? Some
of them arc talking, others silent.

"You have shown me a strange image, and they are strange
prisoners.

14 Like ourselves, I replied ; and they see only their own shadows,

147

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

or the shadows of one another, which the fire throws on the
opposite wall of the cave."

The position of the good in Plato's philosophy is peculiar.
Science and truth, he says, are like the good, but the good has
a higher place. "The good is not essence, but far exceeds essence
in dignity and power." Dialectic leads to the end of the intellectual
world in the perception of the absolute good. It is by means of
the good that dialectic is able to dispense with the hypotheses of
the mathematician. The underlying assumption is that reality,
as opposed to appearance, is completely and perfectly good;
to perceive the good, therefore, is to perceive reality. Throughout
Plato's philosophy there is the same fusion of intellect and mysti-
cism as in Pythagoreanism, but at this final culmination mysticism
clearly has the upper hand.

Plato's doctrine of ideas contains a number of obvious errors.
But in spite of these it marks a very important advance in philo-
sophy, since it is the first theory to emphasize the problem of
universal, which, in varying forms, has persisted to the present
day. Beginnings are apt to be crude, but their originality should
not be overlooked on this account. Something remains of what
Plato had to say, even after all necessary corrections have been
made. The absolute minimum of what remains, even in the view
of those most hostile to Plato, is this: that we cannot express
ourselves in a language composed wholly of proper names, but
must have also general words such as "man," "dog," "cat";
or, if not these, then relational words such as "similar," "before,"
and so on. Such words are not meaningless noises, and it is
difficult to see how they can have meaning if the world consists en-
tirely of particular things, such as are designated by proper
names. There may be ways of getting round this argument, but
at any rate it affords a prima facie case in favour of universal*.
I shall provisionally accept it as in some degree valid. But when
so much is granted, the rest of what Plato says by no means
follows.

In the first place, Plato has no understanding of philosophical
syntax. I can say "Socrates is human," "Plato is human," and
so on. In all these statements, it may be assumed that the word
"human" has exactly the same meaning. But whatever it means,
it means something which is not of the same kind as Socrates,

-48

THE THEORY OF IDEAS

Plato, and the rest of the individuals who compose the human
race. "Human" is an adjective; it would be nonsense to say
"human is human." Plato makes a mistake analogous to saying
"human is human." He thinks that beauty is beautiful; he thinks
that the universal "man" is the name of a pattern man created
by God, of whom actual men are imperfect and somewhat unreal
copies. He fails altogether to realize how great is the gap between
universals and particulars; his "ideas" are really just other par-
ticulars, ethically and aesthetically superior to the ordinary kind*
He himself, at a later date, began to see this difficulty, as appears
in the Parmenides, which contains one of the most remarkable
cases in history of self-criticism by a philosopher.

The Parmenides is supposed to be related by Antiphon (Plato's
half-brother), who alone remembers the conversation, but is
now only interested in horses. They find him carrying a bridle,
and with difficulty persuade him to relate the famous discussion
between Parmenides, Zeno, and Socrates. This, we are told, took
place when Parmenides was old (about sixty-five), Zeno in middle
life (about forty), and Socrates quite a young man. Socrates
expounds the theory of ideas; he is sure that there are ideas of
likeness, justices beauty, and goodness; he is not sure that there
is an idea of man ; and he rejects with indignation the suggestion
that there could be ideas of such things as hair and mud and
dirt — though, he adds, there are times when he thinks that there
is nothing without an idea. He runs away from this view because
he is afraid of falling into a bottomless pit of nonsense.

"Yes, Socrates, said Parmenides; that is because you are still
young ; the time will come, if I am not mistaken, when philosophy
will have a firmer grasp of you, and then you will not despise
even the meanest things/'

Socrates agrees that, in his view, "There are certain ideas of
which ail other things partake, and from which they derive their
names; that similars, for example, become similar, because they
partake of similarity; and great things become great, because
they partake of greatness; and that just and beautiful things
become just and beautiful, because they partake of justice and
beauty."

Parmenides proceeds to raise difficulties, (a) Does the individual
partake of the wh<fle idea, or only of a part ? To either view there
are objections. If the former, one thing is in many places at once;

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

if the latter, the idea is divisible, and a thing which has a part of
smallness will be smaller than absolute smallness, which is absurd.
(b) When an individual partakes of an idea, the individual and
the idea are similar; therefore there will have to be another idea,
embracing both the particulars and the original idea. And there
will have to be yet another, embracing the particulars and the
two ideas, and so on ad mfintium. Thus every idea, instead of
being one, becomes an infinite series of ideas. (This is the same
as Aristotle's argument of the "third man.") (c) Socrates suggests
that perhaps ideas are only thoughts, but Parmenides points
out that thoughts must be of something, (d) Ideas cannot resemble
the particulars that partake of them, for the reason given in (b)
above. (*) Ideas, if there are any, must be unknown to us, because
our knowledge is not absolute. (/) If God's knowledge is absolute,
He will not know us, and therefore cannot rule us.

Nevertheless, the theory of ideas is not wholly abandoned.
Without ideas, Socrates says, there will be nothing on which the
mind can rest, and therefore reasoning will be destroyed. Par*
menides tells him that his troubles come of lack of previous
training, but no definite conclusion is reached.

I do not think that Plato's logical objections to the reality of
sensible particulars will bear examination. He says, for example,
that whatever is beautiful is also in some respects ugly; what is
double is also half; and so on. But when we say of some work of
art that it is beautiful in some respects and ugly in others, analysis
will always (at least theoretically) enable us to say "this part or
aspect is beautiful, while that part or aspect is ugly." And as
regards "double" and "half," these are relative terms; there is
no contradiction in the fact that 2 is double of i and half of 4.
Plato is perpetually getting into trouble through not understanding
relative terms. He thinks that if A is greater than B and less than
C, then A is at once great and small, which seems to him a contra-
diction. Such troubles are among the infantile diseases of philo-
sophy.

The distinction between reality and appearance cannot have
the consequences attributed to it by Parmenides and Plato and
Hegel. If appearance really appears, it is not nothing, and is
therefore pan of reality; this is an argument of the correct Par-
menidean sort. If appearance does not really appear, why trouble
our heads about it? But perhaps some one will say: "Appearance

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THE THEORY OF IDEAS

does not really appear, but it appears to appear." This will not
help, for we shall ask again: "Does it really appear to appear,
or only apparently appear to appear?" Sooner or later, if appear-
ance is even to appear to appear, we must reach something that
really appears, and is therefore part of reality. Plato would not
dream of denying that there appear to be many beds, although
there is only one real bed, namely the one made by God. But
he does not seem to have faced the implications of the fact that
there are many appearances, and that this many-ness is part of
reality. Any attempt to divide the world into portions, of which
one is more "real" than the other, is doomed to failure.

Connected with this is another curious view of Plato's, that
knowledge and opinion must be concerned with different subject-
matters. We should say: If I think it is going to snow, that is
opinion; if later I see it snowing, that is knowledge; but the
subject-matter is the same on both occasions. Plato, however,
thinks that what can at any time be a matter ot opinion can never
be a matter of knowledge. Knowledge is certain and infallible;
opinion is not merely fallible, but is necessarily mistaken, since it
assumes the reality of what is only appearance. All this repeats
what had been said by Parmenides.

There is one respect in which Plato's metaphysic is apparently
different from that of Parmenides. For Parmenides there is only
the One; for Plato, there are many ideas. There are not only
beauty, truth, and goodness, but, as we saw, there is the heavenly
bed, created by God; there is a heavenly man, a heavenly dog,
a heavenly cat, and so on through a whole Noah's ark. All this
however, seems, in the Republic , to have been not adequately
thought out. A Platonic idea or form is not a thought, thougk it
may be the object of a thought. It is difficult to see how God
can have created it, since its being is timeless, and he could not
have decided to create a bed unless his thought, when he decided,
had had for its object that very Platonic bed which we are told
he brought into existence. What is timeless must be uncreated.
We come here to a difficulty which has troubled many philosophic
theologians. Only the contingent world, the world in space and
time, can have been created; but this is the everyday world which
has been condemned as illusory and also bad. Therefore the
Creator, it would* seem, created only illusion and evil. Some
Gnostics \vere so consistent as to adopt this view; but in Plato

'5*

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

the difficulty is still below the surface, and he seems, in the Repub-
lic, to have never become aware of it.

The philosopher who is to be a guardian must, according to
Plato, return into the cave, and live among those who have never
seen the sun of truth. It would seem that God Himself, if He
wishes to amend His creation, must do likewise; a Christian
Platonist might so interpret the Incarnation. But it remains
completely impossible to explain why God was not content
with the world of ideas. The philosopher finds the cave in existence,
and is actuated by benevolence in returning to it ; but the Creator,
if He created everything, might, one would think, have avoided
the cave altogether.

Perhaps this difficulty arises only from the Christian notion
of a Creator, and is not chargeable to Plato, who says that God
did not create everything, but only what is good. The multiplicity
of the sensible world, on this view, would have some other source
than God. And the ideas would, perhaps, be not so much created
by God as constituents of His essence. The apparent pluralism
involved in the multiplicity of ideas would thus not be ultimate.
Ultimately there is only God, or the Good, to whom the ideas are
adjectival. This, at any rate, is a possible interpretation of Plato.
Plato proceeds to an interesting sketch of the education proper
to a young man who is to be a guardian. We saw that the young
man is selected for this honour on the ground of a combination of
intellectual and moral qualities; he must be just and gentle, fond
of learning, with a good memory and a harmonious mind. The
young man who has been chosen for these merits will spend the
years from twenty to thirty on the four Pythagorean studies:
arithmetic, geometry (plane and solid), astronomy, and harmony.
These studies are not to be pursued in any utilitarian spirit, but
in order to prepare his mind for the vision of eternal things. In
astronomy, for example, he is not to trouble himself too much
about the actual heavenly bodies, but rather with the mathematics
of the motion of ideal heavenly bodies. This may sound absurd to
modern ears, but, strange to say, it proved to be a fruitful point
of view in connection with empirical astronomy. The way this
came about is curious, and worth considering.

The apparent motions of the planets, until they have been
very profoundly analysed, appear to be irregular and complicated,
and not at all such &* a Pythagorean Creator would tyvc chosen.

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THE THEORY OF IDEAS

It was obvious to every Greek that the heavens ought to exemplify
mathematical beauty, which would only be the case if the planets
moved in circles. This would be especially evident to Plato,
owing to his emphasis on the good. The problem thus arose: is
there any hypothesis which will reduce the apparent disorderliness
of planetary motions to order and beauty and simplicity? If
there is, the idea of the good will justify us in asserting this
hypothesis. Aristarchus of Samos found such a hypothesis: that
all the planets, including the earth, go round the sun in circles.
This view was rejected for two thousand years, partly on the
authority of Aristotle, who attributes a rather similar hypothesis
to "the Pythagoreans" (De Coelo, 293 a). It was revived by
Copernicus, and its success might seem to justify Plato's aesthetic
bias in astronomy. Unfortunately, however, Kepler discovered
that the planets move in ellipses, not in circles, with the sun
at a focus, not at the centre; then Newton discovered that they
do not move even in exact ellipses. And so the geometrical sim-
plicity sought by Plato, and apparently found by Aristarchus of
Samos, proved in the end illusory.

This piece of scientific history illustrates a general maxim : that
any hypothesis, however absurd, may be useful in science, if it
enables a discoverer to conceive things in a new way; but that,
when it has served this purpose by luck, it is likely to become an
obstacle to further advance. The belief in the good as the key to
the scientific understanding of the world was useful, at a certain
stage, in astronomy, but at every later stage it was harmful. The
ethical and aesthetic bias of Plato, and still more of Aristotle,
did much to kill Greek science.

It is noteworthy that modern Platonists, with few exceptions,
are ignorant of mathematics, in spite of the immense importance
that Plato attached to arithmetic and geometry, and the immense
influence that they had on his philosophy. This is an example
of the evils of specialization: a man must not write on Plato unless
he has spent so much of his youth on Greek as to have had no
time for the things that Plato thought important.

'53

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

I have good hope that there is yet something remaining for the
dead, some far better thing for the good than for the evil."

Death, says Socrates, is the separation of soul and body. Here
we come under Plato's dualism: between reality and appearance,
ideas and sensible objects, reason and sense-perception, soul and
body. These pairs are connected: the first in each pair is superior
to the second both in reality and in goodness. An ascetic morality
was the natural consequence of this dualism. Christianity adopted
this doctrine in part, but never wholly. There were two obstacles.
The first was that the creation of the visible world, if Plato was
right, might seem to have been an evil deed, and therefore the
Creator could not be good. The second was that orthodox Christi-
anity could never bring itself to condemn marriage, though it
held celibacy to be nobler. The Manichaeans were more consistent
in both respects.

The distinction between mind and matter, which has become
a commonplace in philosophy and science and popular thought,
has a religious origin, and began as the distinction of soul and body.
The Orphic, as we saw, proclaims himself the child of earth and
of the starry heaven ; from earth comes the body, from heaven the
soul. It is this theory that Plato seeks to express in the language
of philosophy.

Socrates, in the Phaedo, proceeds at once to develop the ascetic
implications of his doctrine, but his asceticism is of a moderate and
gentlemanly sort. He does not say that the philosopher should
wholly abstain from ordinary pleasures, but only that he should
not be a slave to them. The philosopher should not care about
eating and drinking, but of coune he should eat as much as is
necessary; there is no suggestion of fasting. And we are told that
Socrates, though indifferent to wine, could, on occasion, drink
more than anybody else, without ever becoming intoxicated.
It was not drinking that he condemned, but pleasure in drinking.
In like manner, the philosopher must not care for the pleasures
of love, or for costly raiment, or sandals, or other adornments
of the person. He must be entirely concerned with the soul,
and not with the body. "He would like, as far as he can, to get
away from the body and to turn to the soul."

It is obvious that this doctrine, popularized, would become
ascetic, but in intention it is not, properly' speaking, ascetic.
The philosopher will not abstain with an effort from the pleasures

PLATO'S THEORY OF IMMORTALITY

of sense, but will be thinking of other things. I have known many
philosophers who forgot their meals, and read a book when at
last they did eat. These men were acting as Plato says they should:
they were not abstaining from gluttony by means of a moral
effort, but were more interested in other matters. Apparently
the philosopher should marry, and beget and rear children, in
the same absent-minded way, but since the emancipation of
women this has become more difficult. No wonder Xanthippe
was a shrew.

Philosophers, Socrates continues, try to dissever the soul from
communion with thfe body, whereas other people think that life is
not worth living for a man who has "no sense of pleasure and no
part in bodily pleasure." In this phrase, Plato seems — perhaps
inadvertently — to countenance the view of a certain class of
moralists, that bodily pleasures are the only ones that count.
These moralists hold that the man who does not seek the pleasures
of sense must be eschewing pleasure altogether, and living virtu-
ously. This is an error which has done untold harm. In so far as
the division of mind and body can be accepted, the worst pleasures,
as well as the best, are mental — for example, envy, and many
forms of cruelty and love of power. Milton's Satan rises superior
to physical torment, and devotes himself to a work of destruction
from which he derives a pleasure that is wholly of the mind.
Many eminent ecclesiastics, having renounced the pleasures of
sense, and not being on their guard against others, become
dominated by love of power, which led them to appalling cruelties
and persecutions, nominally for the sake of religion. In our own
day, Hitler belongs to this type; by all accounts, the pleasures of
sense are of very little importance to him. Liberation from the
tyranny of the body contributes to greatness, but just as much to
greatness in sin as to greatness in virtue.

This, however, is a digression, from which we must return to
Socrates.

We come now to the intellectual aspect of the religion which
Plato (rightly or wrongly) attributes to Socrates. We are told
that the body is a hindrance in the acquisition of knowledge, and
that sight and hearing are inaccurate witnesses: true existence,
if revealed to the soul at all, is revealed in thought, not in sense.
Ixrt us consider, for* a moment, the implications of this doctrine.
It involves a complete rejection of empirical knowledge, including

157

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

all history and geography. We cannot know that there was such
a place as Athens, or such a man as Socrates; his death, and his
courage in dying, belong to the world of appearance. It is only
through sight and hearing that we know anything about all this,
and the true philosopher ignores sight and hearing. What, then,
is left to him? First, logic and mathematics; but these are hypo-
thetical, and do not justify any categorical assertion about the real
world. The next step— and this is the crucial one— depends upon
the idea of the good. Having arrived at this idea, the philosopher
is supposed to know that the good is the real, and thus to be able
to infer that the world of ideas is the real world. Later philosophers
had arguments to prove the identity of the real and the good, but
Plato seems to have assumed it as self-evident. If we wish to
understand him, we must, hypothetically, suppose this assumption
justified.

Thought is best, Socrates says, when the mind is gathered into
itself, and is not troubled by sounds or sights or pain or pleasure
but takes leave of the body and aspires after true being; "and in
this the philosopher dishonours the body/' From this point,
Socrates goes on to the ideas or forms or essences. There is
absolute justice, absolute beauty, and absolute good, but they are
not visible to the eye. "And I speak not of these alone, but of
absolute greatness, and health, and strength, and of the essence
or true nature of everything." All these are only to be seen by
intellectual vision. Therefore while we are in the body, and while
the soul is infected with the evils of the body, our desire for truth
Mill not be satisfied.

This point of view excludes scientific observation and experi-
ment as methods for the attainment of knowledge. The experi-
menter's mind is not "gathered into itself," and docs not aim at
avoiding sounds or sights. The two kinds of mental activity that
can be pursued by the method that Plato recommends are mathe-
matics and mystic insight. This explains how these two come to
be so intimately combined in Plato and the Pythagoreans.

To the empiricist, the body is what brings us into touch with
the world of external reality, bat to Plato it is doubly evil, as a
distorting medium, causing us to see as through a glass darkly,
and as a source of lusts which distract us from the pursuit of
knowledge and the vision of truth. Some Quotations will mike
this dear.

PLATO'S THEORY OF IMMORTALITY

The body is the source of endless trouble to us by reason of
the mere requirement of food; and is liable also to diseases which
overtake and impede us in the search after true being: it fills us
full of loves, and lusts, and fears, and fancies of all kinds, and end-
less foolery, and in fact, as men say, takes away from us all power
of thinking at all. Whence come wars, and fightings and factions?
Whence but from the body and the lusts of the body? Wars are
occasioned by the love of money, and money has to be acquired
for the sake and in the service of the body; and by reason of all
these impediments we have no time to give to philosophy; and,
last and worst of all, even if we are at leisure to betake ourselves
to some speculation, the body is always breaking in upon us,
causing turmoil and confusion in our inquiries, and so amazing us
that we are prevented from seeing the truth. It has been proved
to us by experience that if we would have true knowledge of
anything we must be quit of the body — the soul in herself must
behold things in themselves: and then we shall attain the wisdom
which we desire, and of which we say we are lovers; not while we
live, but after death ; for if while in company with the body the
soul cannot have pure knowledge, knowledge must be attained
after death, if at all.

And thus having got rid of the foolishness of the body we shall
he pure and have converse with the pure, and know of ourselves
the clear light everywhere, which is no other than the light of
tnith. For the impure are not permitted to approach the pure. . . .
And what is purification but the separation of the soul from the
body ? . . . And this separation and release of the soul from the
body is termed death. . . . And the true philosophers, and they
only, arc ever seeking to release the soul.

There is one true coin for which all things ought to be exchanged,
and that is wisdom.

The founders of the mysteries would appear to have had a real
meaning, and were not talking nonsense when they intimated in
a figure long ago that he who passes unsanctified and uninitiated
into the world below will lie on a slough, but that he who arrives
there after initiation and purification will dwell with the gods.
For many, as they say in the mysteries, are the thyrsus-bearers, but
few are the mystics, meaning, as 1 interpret the words, the true
philosophers.

All this language is mystical, and is derived from the mysteries.
"Purity" is an Orphic conception, having primarily a ritual
meaning, but for Pilto it means freedom from slavery to the body
and its needs. It it interesting to find him saying that wars are

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

caused by love of money, and that money is only needed for the
service of the body. The first half of this opinion is the same as
that held by Marx, but the second belongs to a very different out-
look. Plato thinks that a man could live on very little money if his
wants were reduced to a minimum, and this no doubt is true. But
he also thinks that a philosopher should be exempt from manual
labour; he must therefore live on wealth created by others. In a
very poor State there are likely to be no philosophers. It was the
imperialism of Athens in the age of Pericles that made it possible
for Athenians to study philosophy. Speaking broadly, intellectual
goods are just as expensive as more material commodities, and
just as little independent of economic conditions. Science requires
libraries, laboratories, telescopes, microscopes, and so on, and
men of science have to be supported by the labour of others. But
to the mystic all this is foolishness. A holy man in India or Tibet
needs no apparatus, wears only a loin cloth, eats only rice, and is
supported by very meagre charity because he is thought wise.
This is the logical development of Plato's point of view.

To return to the Phaedo: Cehcs expresses doubt as to the
survival of the soul after death, and urges Socrates to offer argu-
ments. This he proceeds to do, but it must be said that the argu-
ments are very poor.

Tlit first argument is that all things which have opposites arc
generated from their opposites — a statement which reminds us of
Anaximander's views on cosmic justice. Now life and death are
opposites, and therefore each must generate the other. It follows
that the souk of the dead exist somewhere, and come back to
earth in due course. St. Paul's statement, "the seed is not
quickened except it die," seems to belong to some such theory as
this.

The second argument is that knowledge is recollection, and
therefore the soul must have existed before birth. The theory that
knowledge is recollection is supported chiefly by the fact that we
have ideas, such as exact equality, which cannot be derived from
experience. We have experience of approximate equality, but
absolute equality is never found among sensible objects, and yet
we know what we mean by "absolute equality." Since we have
not learnt this from experience, we must have brought the know-
ledge with us from a previous existence. A similar argument, he
says, applies to all other ideas. Thus the existence of essences,

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PLATO'S THEORY OF IMMORTALITY

and our capacity to apprehend them, proves the pre-existence of
the soul with knowledge.

The contention that all knowledge is reminiscence is developed
at greater length in the Meno (82 ff.). Here Socrates says "there is
no teaching, but only recollection." He professes to prove his point
by having Meno call in a slave-boy whom Socrates proceeds to
question on geometrical problems. The boy's answers are supposed
to show that he really knows geometry, although he has hitherto
been unaware of possessing this knowledge. The same conclusion
is drawn in the Meno as in the Phaedo, that knowledge is brought
by the soul from a previous existence.

As to this, one may observe, in the first place, that the argument
is wholly inapplicable to empirical knowledge. The slave-boy
could not have been led to "remember" when the Pyramids were
built, or whether the siege of Troy really occurred, unless he had
happened to be present at these events. Only the sort of knowledge
that is called a priori — especially logic and mathematics— can be
possibly supposed to exist in every one independently of experience.
In fact, this is the only sort of knowledge (apart from mystic
insight) that Plato admits to be really knowledge. Let us see how
the argument can be met in regard to mathematics.

Take the concept of equality. We must admit that we have no
experience, among sensible objects, of exact equality ; we see only
approximate equality. How, then, do we arrive at the idea of
absolute equality? Or do we, perhaps, have no such idea?

Let us take a concrete case. The metre is defined as the length
of a certain rod in Paris at a certain temperature. What should we
mean if we said, of some other rod, that its length was exactly
one metre? I don't think \ve should mean anything. We could
say: The most accurate processes of measurement known to
science at the present day fail to show that our rod is either longer
or shorter than the standard metre in Paris. We might, if we were
sufficiently rash, add a prophecy that no subsequent refinements
in the technique of measurement will alter this result. But this
is still an empirical statement, in the sense that empirical evidence
may at any moment disprove it. I do not think we really possess
the idea of absolute equality that Plato supposes us to possess.

But even if we do, it is clear that no child possesses it until it
reaches a certain afce, and that the idea is elidttd by experience,
although not directly derived from experience. Moreover, unless

1 6l F

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

our existence before birth was not one of sense-perception, it
would have been as incapable of generating the idea as this life
is; and if our previous existence is supposed to have been partly
super-sensible, why not make the same supposition concerning
our present existence? On all these grounds, the argument fails.

The doctrine of reminiscence being considered established,
Cebes says: "About half of what was required has been proven;
to wit, that our souls existed before we were born: — that the
soul will exist after death as well as before birth is the other half
of which the proof is still wanting." Socrates accordingly applies
himself to this. He says that it follows from what was said about
everything being generated from its opposite, according to which
death must generate life just as much as life generates death. But
he adds another argument, which had a longer history in philo-
sophy: that only what is complex can be dissolved, and that the
soul, like the ideas, is simple and not compounded of parts. What
is simple, it is thought, cannot begin or end or change. Now
essences are unchanging: absolute beauty, for example, is always
the same, whereas beautiful things continually change. Thus
things seen are temporal, but things unseen are eternal. The body
is seen, but the soul is unseen ; therefore the soul is to be classified
in the group of things that are eternal.

The soul, being eternal, is at home in the contemplation of
eternal things, that is, essences, but is lost and confused when,
as in sense-perception, it contemplates the world of changing
things.

The soul, when using the body as an instrument of perception,
that is to say, when using the sense of sight or hearing or some
other sense (for the meaning of perceiving through the body is
perceiving through the senses) ... is then dragged by the body
into the region of the changeable, and wanders and is confused ;
the world spins round her, and she is like a drunkard, when she
touches change. . . . But when returning into herself she reflects,
then she passes into the other world, the region of purity, and
eternity, and immortality, and unchangeableness, which arc her
kindred, and with them she ever lives, when she is by herself, and
is not let or hindered ; then she ceases from her erring ways, and
being in communion with the unchanging is unchanging. And this
state of the soul is called wisdom.

The soul of the true philosopher, which has, in life, been

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PLATO'S THEORY OP IMMORTALITY

liberated from thraldom to the flesh, will, after death, depart to
the invisible world, to live in bliss in the company of the gods.
But the impure soul, which has loved the body, will become a
ghost haunting the sepulchre, or will enter into the body of an
animal, such as an ass or wolf or hawk, according to its character.
A man who has been virtuous without being a philosopher will
become a bee or wasp or ant, or some other animal of a gregarious
and social sort.

Only the true philosopher goes to heaven when he dies. "No
one who has not studied philosophy and who is not entirely pure
at the time of his departure is allowed to enter the company of
the Gods, but the lover of knowledge only." That is why the true
votaries of philosophy abstain from fleshly lusts: not that they
fear poverty or disgrace, but because they "are conscious that the
soul was simply fastened or glued to the body — until philosophy
received her, she could only view real existence through the bars
of a prison, not in and through herself, . . . and by reason of lust
had become the principal accomplice in her own captivity." The
philosopher will be temperate because "each pleasure and pain
is a sort of nail which nails and rivets the soul to the body, until
si ie becomes like the body, and believes that to be true which the
body affirms to be true."

At this point, Simmias brings up the Pythagorean opinion that
the soul is a harmony, and urges: if the lyre is broken, can the
harmony survive? Socrates replies that the soul is not a harmony,
for a harmony is complex, but the soul is simple. Moreover, he
says, the view that the soul is a harmony is incompatible with its
pre-existcnce, which was proved by the doctrine of reminiscence;
for the harmony does not exist before the lyre.

Socrates proceeds to give an account of his own philosophical
development, which is very interesting, but not germane to the
main argument. He goes on to expound the doctrine of ideas,
leading to the conclusion "that ideas exist, and that other things
participate in them and derive their names from them.*' At last
lie describes the fate of souls after death: the good go to heaven,
the bad to hell, the intermediate to purgatory.

His end, and his farewells, are described. His last words are:
"Crito, I owe a cock to Asclepius; will you remember to pay the
debt?" Men paid A cock to Asclepius when they recovered from
tn illness, and Socrates has recovered from life's fitful fever.

163

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

"Of aU the men of his time/* Phaedo concludes, "he was the
wisest and justest and best."

The Platonic Socrates was a pattern to subsequent philosophers
for many ages. What are we to think of him ethically? (I am con-
cerned only with the man as Plato portrays him.) His merits are
obvious. He is indifferent to worldly success, so devoid of fear that
he remains calm and urbane and humorous to the last moment,
caring more for what he believes to be truth than for anything
else whatever. He has, however, some very grave defects. He is
dishonest and sophistical in argument, and in his private thinking
he uses intellect to prove conclusions that are to him agreeable,
rather than in a disinterested search for knowledge. There is
something smug and unctuous about him, which reminds one of
a bad type of cleric. His courage in the face of death would have
been more remarkable if he had not believed that he was going
to enjoy eternal bliss in the company of the gods. Unlike some of
his predecessors, he was not scientific in his thinking, but was
determined to prove the universe agreeable to his ethical standards.
This is treachery to truth, and the worst of philosophic sin*. As
a man, we may believe him admitted to the communion of saints;
but as a philosopher he needs a long residence in ;» scientific
purgatory.

Chapter XVII
PLATO'S COSMOGONY

PLATO'S cosmogony is set forth in the Timaeus,1 which was
translated into Latin by Cicero, and was, moreover, the
only one of the dialogues that was known in the West in
the Middle Ages. Both then, and earlier in Neoplatonism, it
had more influence than anything else in Plato, which is curious,
as it certainly contains more that is simply silly than is to be found
in his other writings. As philosophy, it is unimportant, but his-
torically it was so influential that it must be considered in some
detail.

The place occupied by Socrates in the earlier dialogues i* taken,
in the Timaeus, by a Pythagorean, and the doctrines of that school
are in the main adopted, including (up to a point) the view that
number-is the explanation of the world. There is first a summary
of the first five books of the Republic, then the myth of Atlantis,
which is said to have been an island off the Pillars of Hercules,
larger than Libya and Asia put together. Then Timaeus, who is a
Pythagorean astronomer, proceeds to tell the history of the world
down to the creation of man. What he says is, in outline, as follows.
What is unchanging is apprehended by intelligence and reason ;
what is changing is apprehended by opinion. The world, being
sensible, cannot be eternal, and must have been created by God.
Since God is good, He made the world after the pattern of the
eternal; being without jealousy, He wanted everything as like
Himself as possible. "God desired that all things should be good,
and nothing bad, as far as possible." "Finding the whole visible
sphere not at rest, but moving in an irregular and disorderly
fashion, out of disorder he brought order." (Thus it appears that
Plato's God, unlike the Jewish and Christian God, did not create
the world out of nothing, but rearranged pre-existing material.)
He put intelligence in the soul, and the soul in the body. He made
the world as a whole a living creature having soul and intelligence.
There is only one world, not many, as various pre-Socratics had

1 This dialogue contains much that is obscure and has given rise to
controversies among commentators. On the whole, I find myself in most
agreement with Comford's admirable book, Plato's Cosmology.

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

taught; there cannot be more than one, since it is a created copy
designed to accord as closely as possible with the eternal original
apprehended by God. The world in its entirety is one visible
animal, comprehending within itself all other animals. It is a
globe, because like is fairer than unlike, and only a globe is alike
everywhere. It rotates, because circular motion is the most perfect ;
and since this is its only motion it needs no feet or hands.

The four elements, fire, air, water, and earth, each of which
apparently is represented by a number, are in continued propor-
tion, i.e. fire is to air as air is to water and as water is to earth. God
used all the elements in making the world, and therefore it is
perfect, and not liable to old age or disease. It is harmonized by
proportion, which causes it to have the spirit of friendship, and
therefore to be indissoluble except by God.

God made first the soul, then the body. The soul is compounded
of the indivisible-unchangeable and the divisible-changeable; it
is a third and intermediate kind of essence.

Here follows a Pythagorean account of the planets, leading to
an explanation of the origin of time:

When the father and creator saw the creature which he had
made moving and living, the created image of the eternal gods, he
rejoiced, and in his joy determined to make the copy still more like
the original ; and as this was eternal, he sought to make the universe
eternal, so far as might be. Now the nature of the ideal being was
everlasting, but to bestow this attribute in its fulness upon a
creature was impossible. Wherefore he resolved to have a moving
image of eternity, and when be set in order the heaven, he made this
image eternal but moving according to number, while eternity
itself rests in unity; and this image we call Time.1

Before this, there were no days or nights. Of the eternal essence
we must not say that it tvas or will be ; only is is correct. It is implied
that of the "moving image of eternity*1 it is correct to say that it
was and will be.

Time and the heavens came into existence at the same instant.
God made the sun so that animals could learn arithmetic — without
the succession of days and nights, one supposes, we should not
have thought of numbers. The sight of day and night, months
and years, has created knowledge of number and given u* the

1 Vaughcn mutt have been reading this pasngc when he wrote the
poem beginning "I saw eternity the other night."

166

PLATO'S COSMOGONY

conception of time, and hence came philosophy. This is the
greatest boon we owe to sight.

There are (apart from the world as a whole) four kinds of
animals: gods, birds, fishes, and land animals. The gods are
mainly fire; the fixed stars are divine and eternal animals. The
Creator told the gods that he could destroy them, but would not
do so. He left it to them to make the mortal part of all other
animals, after he had made the immortal and divine part. (This,
like other passages about the gods in Plato, is perhaps not to be
taken very seriously. At the beginning, Timaeus says he seeks
only probability, and cannot be sure. Many details are obviously
imaginative, and not meant literally.)

The Creator, Timaeus says, made one soul for each star. Souls
have sensation, love, fear, and anger; if they overcome these, they
live righteously, but if not, not. If a man lives well, he goes, after
death, to live happily for ever in his star. But if he lives badly, he
will, in the next life, be a woman ; if he (or she) persists in evil-
doing, he (or she) will become a brute, and go on through trans-
migrations until at last reason conquers. God put some souls on
earth, some on the moon, some on other planets and stars, and
left it to the gods to fashion their bodies.

There are two kinds of causes, those that are intelligent, and
those that, being moved by others, are, in turn, compelled to
move others. The former are endowed with mind, and are the
workers of things fair and good, while the latter produce chance
effects without order or design. Both sorts ought to be studied,
for the creation is mixed, being made up of necessity and mind.
(It will be observed that necessity is not subject to God's power.)
Timaeus now proceeds to deal with the part contributed by
necessity.1

Earth, air, tire, and water are not the first principles or letters
or elements; they are not even syllables or first compounds. Fire,
for instance, should not be called this, but such — that is to say, it
is not a substance, but rather a state of substance. At this point,
the question is raised: are intelligible essences only names? The
answer turns, we are told, on whether mind is or is not the same

1 Cornford (op. cit.) points out that "necessity" is not to be con-
founded with the modern conception of a deterministic reign of law. The
things that happen through "necessity" are those not brought about by
a purpose : they are chaotic and not subject to laws.

167

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

thing as true opinion. If it is not, knowledge must be knowledge
of essences, and therefore essences cannot be mere names. Now
mind and true opinion certainly differ, for the one is implanted
by instruction, the other by persuasion; one is accompanied by
true reason, the other is not; all men share in true opinion,
but mind is the attribute of the gods and of a very few among
men.

This leads to a somewhat curious theory of space, as something
intermediate between the world of essence and the world of
transient sensible things.

There is one kind of being which is always the same, uncreated
and indestructible, never receiving anything into itself from with-
out, nor itself going out to any other, but invisible and imper-
ceptible by any sense, and of which the contemplation is granted
to intelligence only. And there is another nature of the same name
with it, and like to it, perceived by sense, created, always in motion,
becoming in place and again vanishing out of place, which is appre-
hended by opinion and sense. And there is a third nature, which
is space, and is eternal, and admits not of destruction and provides
a home for all created things, and is apprehended without the help
of sense, by a kind of spurious reason, and is hardly real ; which \vc
beholding as in a dream, say of all existence that it must of necessity
be in some place and occupy a space, but that what is neither in
heaven nor on earth has no existence.

This is a very difficult passage, which I do not pretend to under-
stand at all fully. The theory expressed must, I think, have arisen
from reflection on geometry, which appeared to be a matter of
pure reason, like arithmetic, and yet had to do with space, which
was an aspect of the sensible world. In general it is fanciful to
find analogies with later philosophers, but I cannot help thinking
that Kant must have liked this view of space, as one having an
affinity with his own.

The true elements of the material world, Timaeus says, are not
earth, air, fire, and water, but two sorts of right-angled triangles,
the one which is half a square and the one which is half an equi-
lateral triangle. Originally everything was in confusion, and "the
various elements had different places before they were arranged
so as to form the universe/' But then God fashioned them by
form and number, and "made them as far as'possible the fairest
and best, out of things which were not fair and good." The above

168

PLATO'S COSMOGONY

two sorts of triangles, we are told, are the most beautiful forms
and therefore God used them in constructing matter. By means of
these two triangles, it is possible to construct four of the five
regular solids, and each atom of one of the four elements is a
regular solid. Atoms of earth are cubes; of fire, tetrahedra; of air,
octahedra ; and of water, icosahedra. (I shall come to the dode-
cahedron presently.)

The theory of the regular solids, which is set forth in the
thirteenth book of Euclid, was, in Plato's day, a recent discovery;
it was completed by Theaetetus, who appears as a very young
man in the dialogue that bears his name. It was, according to
tradition, he who first proved that there are only five kinds of
regular solids, and discovered the octahedron and the icosahedron.1
The regular tetrahedron, octahedron, and icosahedron, have
equilateral triangles for their faces; the dodecahedron has regular
pentagons, and cannot therefore be constructed out of Plato's two
triangles. For this reason he does not use it in connection with the
four elements.

As for the dodecahedron, Plato says only "there was yet a fifth
combination which God used in the delineation of the universe."
This is obscure, and suggests that the universe is a dodecahedron;
but elsewhere it is said to be a sphere.1 The pentagram has always
been prominent in magic, and apparently owes this position to the
Pythagoreans, who called it '"Health" and used it as a symbol of
recognition of members of the brotherhood.8 It seems that it owed
its properties to the fact that the dodecahedron has pentagons for
its faces, and is, in some sense, a symbol of the universe. This
topic is attractive, but it is difficult to ascertain much that is
definite about it.

After a discussion of sensation, Timaeus proceeds to explain
the two souls in man, one immortal, the other mortal, one created
by God, the other by the gods. The mortal soul is "subject to
terrible and irresistible affections — first of all, pleasure, the
greatest incitement to evil; then pain, which deters from good;
also rashness and fear, two foolish counsellors, anger hard to be
appeased, and hope easily led astray; these they (the gods) mingled

1 Sec Heath, Greek Mathcmalic*, Vol. 1, pp. 159, 162, 294-296.
1 For a reconciliation of the two statements, see Cornford, op. «/.,
p. 219.
9 Heath, of. ri/., p. 161.

169

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

with irrational sense and with all-daring love according to
necessary laws, and so framed men."

The immortal soul is in the head, the mortal in the breast.

There is some curious physiology, as, that the purpose of the
intestines is to prevent gluttony by keeping the food in, and then
there is another account of transmigration. Cowardly or un-
righteous men will, in the next life, be women. Innocent light-
minded men, who think that astronomy can be learnt by looking
at the stars without knowledge of mathematics, will become birds ;
those who have no philosophy will become wild land-animals;
the very stupidest will become fishes.

The last paragraph of the dialogue sums it up :

We may now say that our discourse about the nature of the
universe has an end. The world has received animals, mortal and
immortal, and is fulfilled with them, and has become a visible
animal containing the visible — the sensible God who is the image
of the intellectual, the greatest, best, fairest, most perfect- the
one only-begotten heaven.

It is difficult to know what to take seriously in the Tiwacus,
and what to regard as play of fancy. I think the account of the
creation as bringing order out of chaos is to be taken quite
seriously; so also is the proportion between the four elements, and
their relation to the regular solids and their constituent triangles.
The accounts of time and space are obviously what Plato believes,
and so is the view of the created world as a copy of an eternal
archetype. The mixture of necessity and purpose in the world is
a belief common to practically all Greeks, long antedating the rise
of philosophy; Plato accepted it, and thus avoided the problem
of evil, which troubles Christian theology. I think his world-
animal is seriously meant. But the details about transmigration,
and the pan attributed to the gods, and other inessentials, are, I
think, only put in to give a possible concreteness.

The whole dialogue, as I said before, deserves to he studied
because of its great influence on ancient and medieval thought;
and this influence is not confined to what is least fantastic.

170

Chapter XVIII
KNOWLEDGE AND PERCEPTION IN PLATO

MOST modern men take it for granted that empirical know-
ledge is dependent upon, or derived from, perception.
There is however in Plato and among philosophers of
certain other schools a very different doctrine, to the effect that
there is nothing worthy to be called "knowledge" to be derived
from the senses, and that the only real knowledge has to do with
concepts. In this view, "2 + 2 = 4" is genuine knowledge, but
such a statement as "snow is white" is so full of ambiguity and
uncertainty that it cannot find a place in the philosopher's corpus
of truths.

This view is perhaps traceable to Panne nides, but in its explicit
form the philosophic world owes it to Plato. I propose, in this
chapter, to deal with Plato's criticism of the view that know-
ledge is the same thing as perception, which occupies the first
half of the Theaetetus.

This dialogue is concerned to find a definition of "knowledge,"
but ends without arriving at any but a negative conclusion;
several definitions are proposed and rejected, but no definition
that is considered satisfactory is suggested.

The first of the suggested definitions, and the only one that I
shall consider, is set forth by Theaetetus in the words:

"It seems to me that one who knows something is perceiving
the thing that he knows, and, so far as I can see at present,
knowledge is nothing but perception."

Socrates identifies this doctrine with that of Protagoras, that
"man is the measure of all thini;sv" i.e.*that any given thing "is
to me such as it appears to me, and is to you such as it appears
10 you." Socrates adds: "Perception, then, is always something
that w, and, as being knowledge, it is infallible."

A large part of the argument that follows is concerned with the
characterization of perception; when once this is completed, it
does not take long to prove that such a thing as perception has
turned out to be cannot be knowledge.

Socrates adds to* the doctrine of Protagoras the doctrine of
Heraclitus, jhat everything is always changing, i.e. that "all the

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

things we are pleased to say 'are' really are in process of becoming. "
Plato believes this to be true of objects of sense, but not of the
objects of real knowledge. Throughout the dialogue, however,
his positive doctrines remain in the background.

From the doctrine of Heraclitus, even if it be only applicable
to objects of sense, together with the definition of knowledge as
perception, it follows that knowledge is of what becomes, not of
what is.

There are, at this point, some puzzles of a very elementary
character. We are told that, since 6 is greater than 4 but less than
12, 6 is both great and small, which is a contradiction. Again,
Socrates is now taller than Theaetetus, who is a youth not yet
full grown; but in a few years Socrates will be shorter than
Theaetetus. Therefore Socrates is both tall and short. The idea
of a relational proposition seems to have puzzled Plato, as it did
most of the great philosophers down to Hegel (inclusive). These
puzzles, however, are not very germane to the argument, and
may be ignored.

Returning to perception, it is regarded as due to an interaction
between the object and the sense-organ, both of which, according
to the doctrine of Heraclitus, are always changing, and both of
which, in changing, change the percept. Socrates remarks that
when he is well he finds wine sweet, but when ill, sour. Here it
is a change in the percipient that causes the change in the percept.

Certain objections to the doctrine of Protagoras arc advanced,
and some of these are subsequently withdrawn. It is urged that
Protagoras ought equally to have admitted pigs and baboons as
measures of all things, since they also are percipients. Questions
are raised as to the validity of perception in dreams and in madness.
It is suggested that, if Protagoras is right, one man knows no
more than another: not only is Protagoras as wise as the gods,
but, what is more serious, he is no wiser than a fool. Further, if
one man's judgments are as correct as another's, the people who
judge that Protagoras is mistaken have the same reason to be
thought right as he has.

Socrates undertakes to find an answer to many of these objec-
tions, putting himself, for the moment, in the place of Protagoras.
As for dreams, the percepu are true as percept*. As for the argu-
ment about pigs and baboons, this is dismissed as vulgar abuse.
As for the argument that, if each man U the measure pf all things,

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KNOWLEDGE AND PERCEPTION IN PLATO

one man is as wise as another, Socrates suggests, on behalf of
Protagoras, a very interesting answer, namely that, while one
judgment cannot be truer than another, it can be better, in the
sense of having better consequences. This suggests pragmatism.1

This answer, however, though Socrates has invented it, does
not satisfy him. He urges, for example, that when a doctor fore-
tells the course of my illness, he actually knows more of my future
than I do. And when men differ as to what it is wise for the State
to decree, the issue shows that some men had a greater knowledge
as to the future than others had. Thus we cannot escape the
conclusion that a wise man is a better measure of things than a fool.

All these are objections to the doctrine that each man is the
measure of all things, and only indirectly to the doctrine that
"knowledge" means "perception," in so far as this doctrine leads
to the other. There is, however, a direct argument, namely that
memory must be allowed as well as perception. This is admitted,
and to this extent the proposed definition is amended.

We come next to criticisms of the doctrine of Heraclitus. This
is first pushed to extremes, in accordance, we are told, with the
practice of his disciples among the bright youths of Ephesus. A
thing may change in two ways, by locomotion, and by a change of
quality, and the doctrine of flux is held to state that everything
is always changing in both respects.2 And not only is everything
always undergoing some qualitative change, but everything is
always changing all its qualities — so, we are told, clever people
think at Ephesus. This has awkward consequences. We cannot
say "this is white," for if it was white when we began speaking it
will have ceased to be white before we end our sentence. We
cannot be right in saying we are seeing a thing, for seeing is
perpetually changing into not-seeing.* If everything is changing

1 It was presumably thit passage that first suggested to F. C. S. Schiller
his admiration of Protagoras.

1 It seems that neither Plato nor the dynamic youths of Ephesus had
noticed that locomotion is impossible on the extreme Heraclitean doctrine.
Motion demands that a given thing A should be now here, now there : it
must remain the tame thing while it moves. In the doctrine that Plato
examines there is change of quality and change of place, but not change
of substance. In this respect, modern quantum physics goes further than
the most extreme di^iples of Heraclitus went in Plato's time. Plato \\ould
have thought this fatal to science, but it has not proved so.

* Compaq* the advertisement: "That's Shell, that was.9

173

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

in every kind of way, seeing has no right to be called seeing rather
than not-seeing, or perception to be called perception rather than
not-perception. And when we say "perception is knowledge," we
might just as well say "perception is not-knowledge."

What the above argument amounts to is that, whatever else
may be in perpetual flux, the meanings of words must be fixed,
at least for a time, since otherwise no assertion is definite, and no
assertion is true rather than false. There must be something more
or less constant, if discourse and knowledge are to be possible.
This, I think, should be admitted. But a great deal of flux is
compatible with this admission.

There is, at this point, a refusal to discuss Parmenides, on the
ground that he is too great and grand. He is a "reverend and
awfiil figure." "There was a sort of depth in him that was alto-
gether noble." He is "one being whom I respect above all." In
these remarks Plato shows his love for a static universe, and his
dislike of the Heraclitean flux which he has been admitting for
the sake of argument. But after this expression of reverence he
abstains from developing the Parmenidean alternative to I leraclitus.
We now reach Plato's final argument against the identification
of knowledge with perception. He begins by pointing out that we
perceive through eyes and ears, rather than with them, and he goes
on to point out that some of our knowledge is not connected with
any sense-organ. We can know, for instance, that sounds and
colours are unlike, though no organ of sense can perceive both.
There is no special organ for "existence and non-existence, like-
ness and unlikeness, sameness and differences, and also unity and
numbers in general." The same applies to honourable and dis-
honourable, and good and bad. "The mind contemplates some
things through its own instrumentality, others through the bodily
faculties." We perceive hard and soft through touch, but it is the
mind that judges that they exist and that they are contraries. Only
the mind can reach existence, and we cannot reach truth if we do
not reach existence. It follows that we cannot know things through
the senses alone, since through the senses alone we cannot know
that things exist. Therefore knowledge consists in reflection, not
in impressions, and perception is not knowledge, because it "has
no part in apprehending truth, since it has none in apprehending
existence." •

7*o disentangle what can be accepted from what must be rejected

*74

KNOWLEDGE AND PERCEPTION IN PLATO

in this argument against the identification of knowledge with
perception is by no means easy. There are three inter-connected
theses that Plato discusses, namely:

(1) Knowledge is perception;

(2) Man is the measure of all things;

(3) Everything is in a state of flux.

(i) The first of these, with which alone the argument is pri-
marily concerned, is hardly discussed on its own account except
in the final passage with which we have just been concerned.
Here it is argued that comparison, knowledge of existence, and
understanding of number, are essential to knowledge, but cannot
be included in perception since they are not effected through
any sense-organ. The things to be said about these are different.
Let us begin with likeness and unlikeness.

That two shades of colour, both of which I am seeing, are
similar or dissimilar as the case may be, is something which I,
for my part, should accept, not indeed as a "percept," but as a
"judgment of perception.11 A percept, I should say, is not know-
ledge, but merely something that happens, and that belongs
equally to the world of physics and to the world of psychology.
We naturally think of perception, as Plato does, as a relation
between a percipient and an object: we say "I see a table." But
here "I" and "table" are logical constructions. The core of crude
occurrence is merely certain patches of colour. These are asso-
ciated with images of touch, they may cause words, and they may
become a source of memories. The percept as filled out with
images of touch becomes an "object," which is supposed physical;
the percept as filled out with words and memories becomes a
"perception," which is part of a "subject" and is considered
mental. The percept is just an occurrence, and neither true nor
false; the percept as filled out with words is a judgment, and
capable of truth or falsehood. This judgment I call a "judgment
of perception." The proposition "knowledge is perception" must
be interpreted as meaning "knowledge is judgments of perception."
It is only in this form that it is grammatically capable of being
correct.

To return to likeness and unlikeness, it is quite possible, when
I perceive two colours simultaneously, for their likeness or unlike-
ness to be part of the datum, and to be asserted in a judgment of

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WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

perception. Plato's argument that we have no sense-organ for
perceiving likeness and unlikeness ignores the cortex, and assumes
that all sense-organs must be at the surface of the body.

The argument for including likeness and unlikeness as possible
perceptive data is as follows. Let us assume that we see two shades
of colour A and B, and that we judge "A is like B." Let us assume
further, as Plato does, that such a judgment is in general correct,
and, in particular, is correct in the case we are considering. There
is, then, a relation of likeness between A and B, and not merely
a judgment on our part asserting likeness. If there were only our
judgment, it would be an arbitrary judgment, incapable of truth
or falsehood. Since it obviously is capable of truth or falsehood,
the likeness can subsist between A and B, and cannot be merely
something "mental." The judgment "A is like B" is true (if it is
true) in virtue of a "fact," just as much as the judgment "A is
red" or "A is round." The mind is no wore involved in the per-
ception of likeness than in the perception of colour.

I come now to existence^ on which Plato lays great stress. We
have, he says, as regards sound and colour, a thought which
includes both at once, namely that they exist. Existence belongs
to everything, and is among the things that the mind apprehends
by itself; without reaching existence, it is impossible to reach
truth.

The argument against Plato here is quite different from that
in the case of likeness and unlikeness. The argument here is that
all that Plato says about existence is bad grammar, or rather bad
syntax. This point is important, not only in connection with
Plato, but also with other matters such as the ontological argument
for the existence of the Deity.

Suppose you say to a child "lions exist, but unicorns don't,"
you can prove your point so far as lions are concerned by taking
him to the Zoo and saying "look, that's a lion." You will not,
unless you are a philosopher, add: "And you can sec that that
exists." If, being a philosopher, you do add this, you are uttering
nonsense. To say "lions exist" means "there are lions," i.e. " 'x
is a lion' is true for a suitable #." But we cannot say of the suitable
x that it "exists"; we can only apply this verb to a description,
complete or incomplete. "Lion" is an incomplete description,
because it applies to many objects: "The largbst lion in the Zoo"
is complete, because it applies to only one object.

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KNOWLEDGE AND PERCEPTION IN PLATO

Now suppose that I am looking at a bright red patch. I may
say "this is my present percept"; I may also say "my present
percept exists"; but I must not say "this exists/' because the
word "exists" is only significant when applied to a description
as opposed to a name.1 This disposes of existence as one of the
things that the mind is aware of in objects.

I come now to understanding of numbers. Here there are two
very different things to be considered : on the one hand, the pro-
positions of arithmetic, and on the other hand, empirical pro-
positions of enumeration. "2 + 2 = 4" is of the former kind; "I
have ten fingers" is of the latter.

I should agree with Plato that arithmetic, and pure mathematics
generally, is not derived from perception. Pure mathematics con-
sists of tautologies, analogous to "men are men," but usually
more complicated. To know that a mathematical proposition is
correct, we do not have to study the world, but only the meanings
of the symbols ; and the symbols, when we dispense with definitions
(of which the purpose is merely abbreviation), are found to be
such words as "or" and "not," and "all" and "some," which do
not, like "Socrates," denote anything in the actual world. A
mathematical equation asserts that two groups of symbols have
the same meaning; and so long as we confine ourselves to pure
mathematics, this meaning must be one that can be understood
without knowing anything about what can be perceived. Mathe-
matical truth, therefore, is, as Plato contends, independent of
perception ; but it is truth of a very peculiar sort, and is concerned
only with symbols.

Propositions of enumeration, such as "I have ten fingers," are
in quite a different category, and are obviously, at least in part,
dependent on perception. Clearly the concept "finger" is abstracted
from perception; but how about the concept "ten"? Here we
may seem to have arrived at a true universal or Platonic idea. We
cannot say that "ten" is abstracted from perception, for any
percept which can be viewed as ten of some kind of thing can
equally well be viewed otherwise. Suppose I give the name
"digitary" to all the fingers of one hand taken together; then I
can say "I have two digitaries," and this describes the same fact
of perception as I formerly described by the help of the number
ten. Thus in the statement "I have ten fingers" perception plays
1 On this subject see the last chapter of the present work.

177

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

a smaller part, and conception a larger part, than in such a
statement as "this is red." The matter, however, is only one of
degree.

The complete answer, as regards propositions in which the
word "ten" occurs, is that, when these propositions are correctly
analysed, they are found to contain no constituent corresponding
to the word "ten." To explain this in the case of such a large
number as ten would be complicated ; let us, therefore, substitute
"I have two hands." This means:

"There is an a such that there is a b such that a and b are not
identical and whatever x may be, lx is a hand of mine* is true
when, and only when, x is a or x is 6."

Here the word "two" does not occur. It is true that two letters
a and b occur, but we do not need to know that they are two, any
more than we need to know that they are black, or white, or
whatever colour they may happen to be.

Thus numbers are, in a certain precise sense, formal. The facts
which verify various propositions asserting that various collections
each have two members, have in common, not a constituent, but
a form. In this they differ from propositions about the Statue of
Liberty, or the moon, or George Washington. Such propositions
refer to a particular portion of space-time; it is this that is in
common between all the statements that can be made about the
Statue of Liberty. But there is nothing in common among pro-
positions "there are two so-and-so's" except a common form.
The relation of the symbol "two" to the meaning of a proposition
in which it occurs is far more complicated than the relation of the
symbol "red" to the meaning of a proposition in which it occurs.
We may say, in a certain sense, that the symbol "two" means
nothing, for, when it occurs in a true statement, there is no
corresponding constituent in the meaning of the statement. We
may continue, if we like, to say that numbers are eternal, im-
mutable, and so on, but we must add that they are logical fictions.

There is a further point. Concerning sound and colour, Plato
says "both together are two, and each of them is erne." We have
considered the two\ now we must consider the one. There is here
a mistake very analogous to that concerning existence. The pre-
dicate "one" is not applicable to things, but only to unit classes.
We can say "the earth has one satellite," bdt it is a syntactical
error to say "the moon is one." For what can such an assertion

KNOWLEDGE AND PERCEPTION IN PLATO

mean ? You may just as well say "the moon is many/' since it
has many parts. To say "the earth has one satellite*' is to give a
property of the concept "earth's satellite," namely the following
property:

"There is a c such that '* is a satellite of the earth' is true when,
and only when, x is £."

This is an astronomical truth; but if, for "a satellite of the
earth/' you substitute "the moon" or any other proper name, the
result is either meaningless or a mere tautology. "One," therefore,
is a property of certain concepts, just as "ten" is a property of the
concept "my finger." But to argue "the earth has one satellite,
namely the moon, therefore the moon is one" is as bad as to
argue "The Apostles were twelve; Peter was an apostle; therefore
Peter was twelve/1 which would be valid if for "twelve" we
substituted "white."

The above considerations have shown that, while there is a
formal kind of knowledge, namely logic and mathematics, which
is not derived from perception, Plato's arguments as regards all
other knowledge are fallacious. This does not, of course, prove
that his conclusion is false; it proves only that he has given no
valid reason for supposing it true.

(2) I come now to the position of Protagoras, that man is the
measure of all things, or, as it is interpreted, that each man is the
measure of all things. Mere it is essential to decide the level upon
which the discussion is to proceed. It is obvious that, to begin
with, we must distinguish between percepts and inferences. Among
percepts, each man is inevitably confined to his own; what he
knows of the percepts of others he knows by inference from his
own percepts in hearing and reading. The percepts of dreamers
and madmen, as percepts, arc just as good as those of others; the
only objection to them is that, as their context is unusual, they
are apt to give rise to fallacious inferences.

But how about inferences? Are they equally personal and
private? In a sense, we must admit that they are. What I am to
believe, 1 must believe because of some reason that appeals to
me. It is true that my reason may be some one else's assertion,
but that may be a perfectly adequate reason — for instance, if I am
a judge listening to evidence. And however Protagorean I may
be, it is reasonable to accept the opinion of an accountant about
a set of figures in preference to my own, for 1 may have repeatedly

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WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

found that if, at first, I disagree with him, a little more care shows
me that he was right. In this sense I may admit that another man
is wiser than I am. The Protagorean position, rightly interpreted,
does not involve the view that I never make mistakes, but only
that the evidence of my mistakes must appear to me. My past self
can be judged just as another person can be judged. But all this
presupposes that, as regards inferences as opposed to percepts,
there is some impersonal standard of correctness. If any inference
that I happen to draw is just as good as any other, then the in-
tellectual anarchy that Plato deduces from Protagoras does in
fact follow. On this point, therefore, which is an important one,
Plato seems to be in the right. But the empiricist would say that
perceptions are the test of correctness in inference in empirical
material.

(3) The doctrine of universal flux is caricatured by Plato, and
it is difficult to suppose that any one ever held it in the extreme
form that he gives to it. Let us suppose, for example, that the
colours we see are continually changing. Such a word as "red"
applies to many shades of colour, and if we say "I see red," there
is no reason why this should not remain true throughout the time
that it takes to say it. Plato gets his results by applying to pro-
cesses of continuous change such logical oppositions as perceiving
and not-perceiving, knowing and not-knowing. Such oppositions,
however, are not suitable for describing such processes. Suppose,
on a foggy day, you watch a man walking away from you along a
road: he grows dimmer and dimmer, and there comes a moment
when you are sure that you no longer see him, but there is an
intermediate period of doubt. Logical oppositions have been
invented for our convenience, but continuous change requires a
quantitative apparatus, the possibility of which Plato ignores.
What he says on this subject, therefore, is largely beside the mark.

At the same time, it must be admitted that, unless words, to
some extent, had fixed meanings, discourse would be impossible.
Here again, however, it is easy to be too absolute. Words do change
their meanings; take, for example, the word "idea," It i* only
by a considerable process of education that we learn to give to
this word something like the meaning which Plato gave to it. It
is necessary that the changes in the meanings of words should he
slower than the changes that the words d&cribe; but it is not
necessary that there should be no changes in the meanings of

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KNOWLEDGE AND PERCEPTION IN PLATO

words. Perhaps this does not apply to the abstract words of logic
and mathematics, but these words, as we have seen, apply only
to the form, not to the matter, of propositions. Here, again, we
find that logic and mathematics are peculiar. Plato, under the
influence of the Pythagoreans, assimilated other knowledge too
much to mathematics. He shared this mistake with many of the
greatest philosophers, but it was a mistake none the less.

181

Chapter XIX
ARISTOTLE'S METAPHYSICS

IN reading any important philosopher, but most of all in reading
Aristotle, it is necessary to study him in two ways: with refer-
ence to his predecessors, and with reference to his successors.
In the former aspect, Aristotle's merits are enormous ; in the latter,
his demerits are equally enormous. For his demerits, however, his
successors are more responsible than he is. He came at the end of
the creative period in Greek thought, and after his death it was
two thousand years before the world produced any philosopher
who could be regarded as approximately his equal. Towards the
end of this long period his authority had become almost as un-
questioned as that of the Church, and in science, as well as in
philosophy, had become a serious obstacle to progress. Ever since
the beginning of the seventeenth century, almost every serious
intellectual advance has had to begin with an attack on some
Aristotelian doctrine; in logic, this is still true at the present day.
But it would have been at least as disastrous if any of his pre-
decessors (except perhaps Democritus) had acquired equal
authority. To do him justice, we must, to bejrin with, forget his
excessive posthumous fame, and the equally excessive posthumous
condemnation to which it led.

Aristotle was born, probably in 384 B.C., at Stagira in Thrace.
His father had inherited the position of family physician to the
king of Macedonia. At about the age of eighteen Aristotle came
to Athens and became a pupil of Plato ; he remained in the Aca-
demy for nearly twenty years, until the death of Plato in 348-7 B.C.
I le then travelled for a time, and married either the sister or the
niece of a tyrant named Hermias. (Scandal said she was the
daughter or concubine of Hermias, but both stories are disproved
by the fact that he was a eunuch.) In 343 B.C. he became tutor to
Alexander, then thirteen years old, and continued in that position
until, at the age of sixteen, Alexander was pronounced by his
father to be of age, and was appointed regent during Philip's
absence. Everything one would wish to know of the relations of
Aristotle and Alexander is unascertainable, the more so as legends
were soon invented on the subject. There are letters between them

182

ARISTOTLE'S METAPHYSICS

which are generally regarded as forgeries. People who admire
both men suppose that the tutor influenced the pupil. Hegel
thinks that Alexander's career shows the practical usefulness of
philosophy. As to this, A. W. Benn says: "It would be unfortunate
if philosophy had no better testimonial to show for herself than
the character of Alexander. . . . Arrogant, drunken, cruel,
vindictive, and grossly superstitious, he united the vices of a
Highland chieftain to the frenzy of an Oriental despot."1

For my part, while I agree with Benn about the character of
Alexander, I nevertheless think that his work was enormously
important and enormously beneficial, since, but for him, the whole
tradition of Hellenic civilization might well have perished. As
to Aristotle's influence on him, we are left free to conjecture
whatever seems to us most plausible. For my part, I should
suppose it nil. Alexander was an ambitious and passionate boy,
on bad terms with his father, and presumably impatient of
schooling. Aristotle thought no State should have as many as one
hundred thousand citizens,2 and preached the doctrine of the
golden mean. I cannot imagine his pupil regarding him as any-
thing but a prosy old pedant, set over him by his father to keep
him out of mischief. Alexander, it is true, had a certain snobbish
respect for Athenian civilization, but this was common to his
whole dynasty, who wished to prove that they were not barbarians.
It was analogous to the feeline; of nineteenth-century Russian
aristocrats for Paris. This, therefore, was not attributable to
Aristotle's influence. And I do not see anything else in Alexander
that could possibly have come from this source.

It is more surprising that Alexander had so little influence on
Aristotle, whose speculations on politics were blandly oblivious
of the fact that the era of City States had given \vay to the era of
empires. I suspect that Aristotle, to the end, thought of him as
"that idle and headstrong' boy, who never could understand any-
thing of philosophy/* On the whole, the contacts of these two
great men seem to have been as unfruitful as if they had lived in
different worlds.

From 335 B.C. to 323 B.C. (in which latter year Alexander died),
Aristotle lived at Athens. It was during these twelve years that he
founded his school and wrote most of his books. At the death of
Alexander, the Athenians rebelled, and turned on his friends,

1 Tht Cree^ Philosophers, Vol. I, p. 285. * Ethics, 11708.

183

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

including Aristotle, who was indicted for impiety, but, unlike
Socrates, fled to avoid punishment. In the next year (322) he died.

Aristotle, as a philosopher, is in many ways very different from
all his predecessors. He is the first to write like a professor: his
treatises are systematic, his discussions are divided into heads,
he is a professional teacher, not an inspired prophet. His work is
critical, careful, pedestrian, without any trace of Bacchic en-
thusiasm. The Orphic elements in Plato are watered down in
Aristotle, and mixed with a strong dose of common sense; where
he is Platonic, one feels that his natural temperament has been
overpowered by the teaching to which he has been subjected. He
is not passionate, or in any profound sense religious. The errors
of his predecessors were the glorious errors of youth attempting
the impossible ; his errors are those of age which cannot free itself
of habitual prejudices. He is best in detail and in criticism; he
fails in large construction, for lack of fundamental clarity and
Titanic fire.

It is difficult to decide at what point to begin an account of
Aristotle's metaphysics, but perhaps the best place is his criticism
of the theory of ideas and his own alternative doctrine of uni-
versals. He advances against the theory of ideas a number of very
good arguments, most of which are already to be found in Plato's
Parmenides. The strongest argument is that of the "third man":
if a man is a man because he resembles the ideal man, there must
be a still more ideal man to whom both ordinary men and the
ideal man are similar. Again, Socrates is both a man and an animal,
and the question arises whether the ideal man is an ideal animal ;
if he is, there must be as many ideal animals as there are species
of animals. It is needless to pursue the matter; Aristotle makes it
obvious that, when a number of individuals share a predicate,
this cannot be because of relation to something of the same kind
as themselves, but more ideal. This much may be taken as proved,
but Aristotle's own doctrine is far from clear. It was this lack of
clarity that made possible the medieval controversy between
nominalists and realists.

Aristotle's metaphysics, roughly speaking, may be described as
Plato diluted by common sense, lie is difficult because Plato and
common sense do not mix easily. When one tries to understand
him, one thinks part of the time that he is expressing the ordinary
views of a person innocent of philosophy and the rest of the time

184

ARISTOTLE'S METAPHYSICS

that he is setting forth Platonism with a new vocabulary. It does
not do to lay too much stress on any single passage, because there
is liable to be a correction or modification of it in some later
passage. On the whole, the easiest way to understand both his
theory of universals and his theory of matter and form is to set
forth first the common-sense doctrine which is half of his view,
and then to consider the Platonic modifications to which he
subjects it.

Up to a certain point, the theory of universals is quite simple.
In language, there are proper names, and there are adjectives.
The proper names apply to "things" or "persons," each of which
is the only thing or person to which the name in question applies.
The sun, the moon, France, Napoleon, are unique; there are not
a number of instances of things to which these names apply. On
the other hand, words like "cat," "dog," "man" apply to many
different things. The problem of universals is concerned with
the meanings of such words, and also of adjectives, such as
"white," "hard," "round," and so on. He says:1 "By the term
'universal' I mean that which is of such a nature as to be pre-
dicated of many subjects, by 'individual' that which is not thus
predicated."

What is signified by a proper name is a "substance/* while
what is signified by an adjective or class-name, such as "human"
or "man," is called a "universal." A substance is a "this," but a
universal is a "such" — it indicates the sort of thing, not the actual
particular thing. A universal is not a substance, because it is not
a "this." (Plato's heavenly bed would be a "this" to those who
could perceive it ; this is a matter as to which Aristotle disagrees
with Plato.) "It seems impossible," Aristotle says, "that any uni-
versal term should be the name of a substance. For . . . the
substance of each thing is that which is peculiar to it, which does
not belong to anything else; but the universal is common, since
that is called universal which is sUch as to belong to more than
one thing." The gist of the matter, so far, is that a universal
cannot exist by itself, but only in particular things.

Superficially, Aristotle's doctrine is plain enough. Suppose I

say "there is such a thing as the game of football," most people

would regard the remark as a truism. But if I were to infer that

football could exist without football-players, I should be rightly

1 'to Interpretation, 17*.

185

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

held to be talking nonsense. Similarly, it would be held, there is
such a thing as parenthood, but only because there are parents;
there is such a thing as sweetness, but only because there are
sweet things; and there is redness, but only because there are
red things. And this dependence is thought to be not reciprocal :
the men who play football would still exist even if they never
played football; things which are usually sweet may turn sour;
and my face, which is usually red, may turn pale without ceasing
to be my face. In this way we are led to conclude that what is
meant by an adjective is dependent for its being on what is meant
by a proper name, but not vice versa. This is, I think, what
Aristotle means. His doctrine on this point, as on many others,
is a common-sense prejudice pedantically expressed.

But it is not easy to give precision to the theory. Granted that
football could not exist without football-players, it could perfectly
well exist without this or that football-player. And granted that a
person can exist without playing football, he nevertheless cannot
exist without doing something. The quality redness cannot exist
without some subject, but it can exist without this or that subject ;
similarly a subject cannot exist without some quality, but can
exist without this or that quality. The supposed ground for the
distinction between things and qualities thus seems to be illusory.

The true ground of the distinction is, in fact, linguistic; it is
derived from syntax. There are proper names, adjectives, and
relation- words ; we may say "John is wise, James is foolish, John
is taller than James," Here "John" and "James" are proper
names, "wise" and "foolish" are adjectives, and "taller" is a
relation-word. Metaphysicians, ever since Aristotle, have inter-
preted these syntactical differences metaphysically: John and
James are substances, wisdom and folly are universal*. (Relation-
words were ignored or misinterpreted.) It may be that, given
sufficient care, metaphysical differences can be found that have
some relation to these syntactical differences, but, if so, it will be
only by means of a long process, involving, incidentally, the
creation of an artificial philosophical language. And this language
will contain no such names as "John" and "James/* and no such
adjectives as "wise" and "foolish"; all the words of ordinary
languages will have yielded to analysis, and been replaced by
words having a less complex significance. Until this labour has
been performed, the question of particulars and universals cannot

186

ARISTOTLE'S METAPHYSICS

be adequately discussed. And when we reach the point at which
we can at last discuss it, we shall find that the question we are
discussing is quite different from what we supposed it to be at
the outset.

If, therefore, I have failed to make Aristotle's theory of uni-
versals clear, that is (I maintain) because it is not clear. But it is
certainly an advance on the theory of ideas, and is certainly con-
cerned with a genuine and very important problem.

There is another term which is important in Aristotle and in
his scholastic followers, and that is the term "essence." This is
by no means synonymous with "universal." Your "essence" is
"what you are by your very nature." It is, one may say, those of
your properties which you cannot lose without ceasing to be your-
self. Not only an individual thing, but a species, has an essence.
The definition of a species should consist in mentioning its essence.
I shall return to the conception of "essence" in connection with
Aristotle's logic. For the present I will merely observe that it
seems to me a muddle-headed notion, incapable of precision.

The next point in Aristotle's metaphysics is the distinction of
"form" and "matter. f> (It must be understood that "matter," in
the sense in which it is opposed to "form," is different from
"matter" as opposed to "mind.")

Here, again, there is a common-sense basis for Aristotle's theory,
but here, more than in the case of universals, the Platonic modifi-
cations are very important. We may start with a marble statue;
here marble is the matter, while the shape conferred by the
sculptor is the form. Or, to take Aristotle's examples, if a man
makes a bronze sphere, bronze is the matter, and sphericity is the
form; while in the case of a calm sea, water is the matter and
smoothness is the form. So far, all is simple.

He goes on to say that it is in virtue of the form that the matter
is some one definite thing, and this is the substance of the thing.
What Aristotle means seems to be plain common sense: a "thing"
must be bounded, and the boundary constitutes its form. Take,
say, a volume of water: any part of it can be marked off from the
rest by being enclosed in a vessel, and then this part becomes a
* thing," but so long as the part is in no way marked out from the
rest of the homogeneous mass it is not a "thing." A statue is a
"thing," and the marble of which it is composed is, in a sense,
unchanged from what it was as part of a lump or as part of the

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WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

provided it is so used that we can translate our statements into
a form in which the concept is absent. "A block of marble is a
potential statue" means "from a block of marble, by suitable acts,
a statue is produced." But when potentiality is used as a funda-
mental and irreducible concept, it always conceals confusion of
thought. Aristotle's use of it is one of the bad points in his
system.

Aristotle's theology is interesting, and closely connected with
the rest of his metaphysics — indeed, "theology" is one of his
names for what we call "metaphysics." (The book which we know
under that name was not so called by him.)

There are, he says, three kinds of substances: those that are
sensible and perishable, those that are sensible but not perishable,
and those that are neither sensible nor perishable. The first class
includes plants and animals, the second includes the heavenly
bodies (which Aristotle believed to undergo no change except
motion), the third includes the rational soul in man, and also
God.

The main argument for God is the First Cause: there must be
something which originates motion, and this something must itself
be unmoved, and must be eternal, substance, and actuality. The
object of desire and the object of thought, Aristotle says, cause
movement in this way, without themselves being in motion. So
God produces motion by being loved, whereas every other cause
of motion works by being itself in motion (like a billiard ball).
God is pure thought ; for thought is what is best. "Life also belongs
to God; for the actuality of thought is life, and God is that
actuality; and God's self-dependent actuality is life most good
and eternal. We say therefore that God is a living being, eternal,
most good, so that life and duration continuous and eternal belong
to God; for this is God" (1072*).

"It is clear then from what has been said that there is a sub-
stance which is eternal and unmovable and separate from sensible
things. It has been shown that this substance cannot have any
magnitude, but is without parts and indivisible. . . . But it has
also been shown that it is impassive and unalterable; for all the
other changes are posterior to change of place" (1073*).

God does not have the attributes of a Christian Providence, for
it would derogate from His perfection to think about anything
except what is perfect, i.e. Himself "It must be of itself that the

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ARISTOTLE'S METAPHYSICS

divine thought thinks (since it is the most excellent of things),
and its thinking is a thinking on thinking." (1074*). We must infer
that God does not know of the existence of our sublunary world.
Aristotle, like Spinoza, holds that, while men must love God,
it is impossible that God should love men.

God is not definable as "the unmoved mover." On the contrary,
astronomical considerations lead to the conclusion that there are
either forty-seven or fifty-five unmoved movers (1074*). The
relation of these to God is not made clear; indeed the natural
interpretation would be that there are forty-seven or fifty-five
gods. For after one of the above passages on God Aristotle pro-
ceeds: "We must not ignore the question whether we are to
suppose one such substance or more than one," and at once
embarks upon the argument that leads to the forty-seven or
fifty-five unmoved movers.

The conception of an unmoved mover is a difficult one. To a
modern mind, it would seem that the cause of a change must be a
previous change, and that, if the universe were ever wholly static,
it would remain so eternally. To understand what Aristotle means,
we must take account of what he says about causes. There are,
according to him, four kinds of causes, which were called, respec-
tively, material, formal, efficient, and final. Let us take again the
man who is making a statue. The material cause of the statue is
the marble, the formal cause is the essence of the statue to be
produced, the efficient cause is the contact of the chisel with the
marble, and the final cause is the end that the sculptor has in
view. In modern terminology, the word "cause" would be con-
fined to the efficient cause. The unmoved mover may be regarded
as a final cause : it supplies a purpose for change, which is essentially
an evolution towards likeness with God.

I said that Aristotle was not by temperament deeply religious,
but this is only partly true. One could, perhaps, interpret one
aspect of his religion, somewhat freely, as follows:

God exists eternally, as pure thought, happiness, complete self-
fulfilment, without any unrealized purposes. The sensible world,
oo the contrary, is imperfect, but it has life, desire, thought of an
imperfect kind, and aspiration. All living things are in a greater
or less degree aware of God, and are moved to action by admira-
tion and love of God. Thus God is the final cause of all activity.
Change consists in giving form to matter, but, where sensible

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WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

things are concerned, a substratum of matter always remains.
Only God consists of form without matter. The world is con-
tinually evolving towards a greater degree of form, and thus
becoming progressively more like God. But the process cannot
be completed, because matter cannot be wholly eliminated. This
is a religion of progress and evolution, for God's static perfection
moves the world only through the love that finite beings feel for
Him. Plato was mathematical, Aristotle was biological; this
accounts for the differences in their religions.

This would, however, be a one-sided view of Aristotle's religion ;
he has also the Greek love of static perfection and preference for
contemplation rather than action. His doctrine of the soul
illustrates this aspect of his philosophy.

Whether Aristotle taught immortality in any form, or not, was
a vexed question among commentators. Avenoes, who held that
he did not, had followers in Christian countries, of whom the
more extreme were called Epicureans, and whom Dante found in
hell. In fact, Aristotle's doctrine is complex, and easily lends itself
to misunderstandings. In his book On the Soul, he regards the
soul as bound up with the body, and ridicules the Pythagorean
doctrine of transmigration (407*). The soul, it seems, perishes
with the body: "it indubitably follows that the soul is inseparable
from its body" (4x3*); but he immediately adds: "or at any rate
certain parts of it are." Body and soul are related as matter and
form: "the soul must be a substance in the sense of the form of
a material body having life potentially within it. But substance is
actuality, and thus soul is the actuality of a body as above charac-
terized" (412*). Soul "is substance in the sense which corresponds
to the definitive formula of a thing's essence. That means that it
is the 'essential whatness' of a body of the character just assigned1'
(i.e. having Hfe) (412*). The soul is the first grade of actuality of
a natural body having life potentially in it. The body so described
is a body which is organized (412*). To ask whether soul and body
are one is as meaningless as to ask whether the wax and the shape
given it by the stamp are one (412*). Self •nutrition is the only
psychic power possessed by plants (413'). The soul is the final
cause of the body (414").

In this book, he distinguishes between "soul" and "mind,"
making mind higher than soul, and less bound to the body. After
•peaking of the relation of soul and body, he says: "The case of

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ARISTOTLE'S METAPHYSICS

mind is different; it seems to be an independent substance im-
planted within the soul and to be incapable of being destroyed"
(408*). Again: "We have no evidence as yet about mind or the
power to think; it seems to be a widely different kind of soul,
differing as what is eternal from what is perishable; it alone is
capable of existence in isolation from all other psychic powers.
All the other parts of soul, it is evident from what we have said,
are, in spite of certain statements to the contrary, incapable of
separate existence** (413*). The mind is the part of us that under-
stands mathematics and philosophy; its objects are timeless, and
therefore it is regarded as itself timeless. The soul is what moves
the body and perceives sensible objects ; it is characterized by self-
nutrition, sensation, feeling, and motivity (413*); but the mind
has the higher function of thinking, which has no relation to the
body or to the senses. Hence the mind can be immortal, though
the rest of the soul cannot.

To understand Aristotle's doctrine of the soul, we must re-
member that the soul is the "form" of the body, and that spatial
shape is one kind of "form." What is there in common between
soul and shape? I think what is in common is the conferring of
unity upon a certain amount of matter. The part of a block of
marble which afterwards becomes a statue is, as yet, not separated
from the rest of the marble; it is not yet a "thing," and has not
yet any unity. After the sculptor has made the statue, it has unity,
which it derives from its shape. Now the essential feature of the
soul, in virtue of which it is the "form" of the body, is that it
makes the body an organic whole, having purposes as a unit. A
single organ has purposes lying outside itself; the eye, in isolation,
cannot see. Thus many things can be said in which an animal or
plant as a whole is the subject, which cannot be said about any
part of it. It is in this sense that organization, or form, confers
substantiality. That which confers substantiality upon a plant or
animal is what Aristotle calls its "soul/1 But "mind" is some-
thing different, less intimately bound up with the body; perhaps
it is a part of the soul, but it is possessed by only a small minority
of living beings (415"). Mind as speculation cannot be the cause
of movement, for it never thinks about what is practicable, and
never says what is to be avoided or what pursued (432*).

A similar doctrine, though with a slight change of terminology,
is set forth in the Nicomachean Ethics. There is in the soul one

Hukiry »/ H'

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

element that is rational, and one that is irrational. The irrational
part is two-fold: the vegetative, which is found in everything
living, even in plants, and the appetitive, which exists in all
animals (1102*). The life of the rational soul consists in contem-
plation, which is the complete happiness of man though not fully
attainable. "Such a life would be too high for man; for it is not
in so far as he is man that he will live so, but in so far as something
divine is present in him ; and by so much as this is superior to our
composite nature is its activity superior to that which is the
exercise of the other kind of virtue (the practical kind). If reason
is divine, then, in comparison with man, the life in accordance
with it is divine in comparison with human life. But we must not
follow those who advise us, being men, to think of human things,
and being mortal, of mortal things, but must, so far as we can,
make ourselves immortal, and strain every nerve to live in accord-
ance with the best thing in us; for even if it be small in bulk,
much more does it in power and worth surpass everything" ( 1 177').
It seems, from these passages, that individuality — what distin-
guishes one man from another — is connected with the body and
the irrational soul, while the rational soul or mind is divine and
impersonal. One man likes oysters, and another likes pineapples;
this distinguishes between them. But when they think about the
multiplication table, provided they think correctly, there is no
difference between them. The irrational separates us, the rational
unites us. Thus the immortality of mind or reason is not a personal
immortality of separate men, but a share in God's immortality.
It does not appear that Aristotle believed in personal immortality,
in the sense in which it was taught by Plato and afterwards by
Christianity. He believed only that, in so far as men are rational,
they partake of the divine, which is immortal. It is open to man
to increase the element of the divine in his nature, and to do so
is the highest virtue. But if he succeeded completely, he would
have ceased to exist as a separate person. This is perhaps not the
only possible interpretation of Aristotle's words, but I think it is
the most natural.

'94

Chapter XX
ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS

IN the corpus of Aristotle's works, three treatises on ethics have
a place, but two of these are now generally held to be by dis-
ciples. The third, the Nicomachean Ethics, remains for the most
part unquestioned as to authenticity, but even in this book there
is a portion (Books V, VI, and VII) which is held by many to have
been incorporated from one of the works of disciples. I shall,
however, ignore this controversial question, and treat the book as
a whole and as Aristotle's.

The views of Aristotle on ethics represent, in the main, the pre-
vailing opinions of educated and experienced men of his day.
They are not, like Plato's, impregnated with mystical religion; nor
do they countenance such unorthodox theories as are to be found
in the Republic concerning property and the family. Those who
neither fall below nor rise above the level of decent, well-behaved
citizens mil find in the Ethics a systematic account of the prin-
ciples by which they hold that their conduct should be regulated.
Those who demand anything more will be disappointed. The
book appeals to the respectable middle-aged, and has been used
by them, especially since the seventeenth century, to repress the
ardours and enthusiasms of the young. But to a man with any
depth of feeling it is likely to be repulsive.

The good, we are told, is happiness, which is an activity of the
soul. Aristotle says that Plato was right in dividing the soul into
two parts, one rational, the other irrational. The irrational part
itself he divides into the vegetative (which is found even in plants)
and the appetitive (which is found in all animals). The appetitive
part may be in some degree rational, when the goods that it seeks
arc such as reason approves of. This is essential to the account of
virtue, for reason alone, in Aristotle, is purely contemplative, and
docs not, without the help of appetite, lead to any practical
activity.

There are two kinds of virtues, intellectual and moral, corre-
sponding to the two parts of the soul. Intellectual virtues result
from teaching, moral virtues from habit. It is the business of the
legislator to make the citizens good by forming good habits. We

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

become just by performing just acts, and similarly as regards
other virtues. By being compelled to acquire good habits, we shall
in time, Aristotle thinks, come to find pleasure in performing good
actions. One is reminded of Hamlet's speech to his mother:

Assume a virtue if you have it not.

That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat,

Of habits devil, is angel, yet in this

That to the use of actions fair and good

He likewise gives a frock or livery

That aptly is put on.

We now come to the famous doctrine of the golden mean.
Every virtue is a mean between two extremes, each of which is a
vice. This is proved by an examination of the various virtues.
Courage is a mean between cowardice and rashness; liberality,
between prodigality and meanness ; proper pride, between vanity
and humility; ready wit, between buffoonery and boorishness;
modesty, between bashfulness and shamelessness. Some virtues
do not seem to fit into this scheme; for instance, truthfulness.
Aristotle says that this is a mean between boastfulness and mock-
modesty (1108*), but this only applies to truthfulness about one-
self. I do not see how truthfulness in any wider sense can be fitted
into the scheme. There was once a mayor who had adopted
Aristotle's doctrine ; at the end of his term of office he made a
speech saying that he had endeavoured to steer the narrow line
between partiality on the one hand and impartiality on the other.
The view of truthfulness as a mean seems scarcely less absurd.

Aristotle's opinions on moral questions are always such as were
conventional in his day. On some points they differ from those of
our time, chiefly where some form of aristocracy comes in. We
think that human beings, at least in ethical theory, all have equal
rights, and that justice involves equality; Aristotle thinks that
justice involves, not equality, but right proportion, which is only
sometimes equality (1131*).

The justice of a master or a father is a different thing from that
of a citizen, for a son or slave is property, and there can be no
injustice to one's own property (i 134*). As regards stoves, however,
there is a slight modification of this doctrine in connection with
the question whether it is possible for a man to be a friend of his
slave: "There is nothing in common between the two parties; the
slave is a living tool. . . . Qua slave, then, one cannot be friends

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ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS

with him. But qua man one can ; for there seems to be some justice
between any man and any other who can share in a system of
law or be a party to an agreement; therefore there can also be
friendship with him in so far as he is a man" (n6i6).

A father can repudiate his son if he is wicked, but a son cannot
repudiate his father, because he owes him more than he can pos-
sibly repay, especially existence (n636). In unequal relations, it is
right, since everybody should be loved in proportion to his worth,
that the inferior should love the superior more than the superior
loves the inferior: wives, children, subjects, should have more love
for husbands, parents, and monarchs than the latter have for
them. In a good marriage, "the man rules in accordance with
his worth, and in those matters in which a man should rule, but
the matters that befit a woman he hands over to her" (1160*).
He should not rule in her province; still less should she rule in
his, as sometimes happens when she is an heiress.

The best individual, as conceived by Aristotle, is a very different
person from the Christian saint. He should have proper pride, and
not underestimate his own merits. He should despise whoever
deserves to be despised (1124*). The description of the proud or
magnanimous man1 is very interesting as showing the difference
between pagan and Christian ethics, and the sense in which
Nietzsche was justified in regarding Christianity as a slave-
morality.

The magnanimous man, since he deserves most, must be good,
in the highest degree; for the better man always deserves more,
and the best man most. Therefore the truly magnanimous man
must be good. And greatness in every virtue would seem to be
characteristic of the magnanimous man. And it would be most
unbecoming for the magnanimous man to fly from danger,
swinging his arms by his sides, or to wrong another; for to what
end should he do disgraceful acts, he to whom nothing is great ?
. . . magnanimity, then, seems to be a sort of crown of the
virtues; for it makes them greater, and it is not found without
them. Therefore it is hard to be truly magnanimous; for it is

1 The Greek word means, literally, "great-souled," and is usually
translated "magnanimous, " but the Oxford translation renders it "proud.*'
Neither word, in its modern usage, quite expresses Aristotle's meaning,
but 1 prefrr"magnaninu>us," and have therefore substituted it for'* proud"
in the above qtyotation from the Oxford translation.

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WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

impossible without nobility and goodness of character. It is
chiefly with honours and dishonours, then, that the magnanimous
man is concerned; and at honours that are great and conferred
by good men he will be moderately pleased, thinking that he is
coming by his own or even less than his own; for there can be
no honour that is worthy of perfect virtue, yet he will at any rate
accept it since they have nothing greater to bestow on him ; but
honour from casual people and on trifling grounds he will utterly
despise, since it is not this that he deserves, and dishonour too,
since in his case it cannot be just. . . . Power and wealth arc
desirable for the sake of honour; and to him for whom even
honour is a little thing the others must be so too. Hence magnani-
mous men are thought to be disdainful. . . . The magnanimous
man does not run into trifling dangers, . . . but he will face great
dangers, and when he is in danger he is unsparing of his life,
knowing that there are conditions on which life is not worth
having. And he is the sort of man to confer benefits, but he is
ashamed of receiving them; for the one is the mark of a superior,
the other of an inferior. And he is apt to confer greater benefits
in return; for thus the original benefactor besides being repaid
will incur a debt to him. ... It is the mark of the magnanimous
man to ask for nothing or scarcely anything, but to give help
readily, and to be dignified towards people who enjoy a hiuh
position but unassuming towards those of the middle class; for
it is a difficult and lofty thing to be superior to the former, but
easy to be so to the latter, and a lofty bearing over the former is
no mark of ill-breeding, but among humble people it is as vulgar
as a display of strength against the weak. ... lie must also be
open in his hate and in his love, for to conceal one's feelings,
i.e. to care less for truth than for what people think, is a coward's
part. . . . He is free of speech because he is contemptuous, and
he is given to telling the truth, except when he speaks in irony
to the vulgar. . . . Nor is he given to admiration, for to him nothing
is great. . . . Nor is he a gossip; for he will speak neither about
himself nor about another, since he cares not to be praised nor
for others to be blamed. ... He is one who will possess beautiful
and profitless things rather than profitable and useful ones, . . .
Further, a slow step is thought proper to the magnanimous man,
a deep voice, and a level utterance. . . . Such, then, is the magnani-
mous man; the man who falls short of him is unduly humble
and the man who goes beyond him is vain" (1123*-! 125*).

One shudders to think what a vain man would b? like.
Whatc/er may be thought of the magnanimous pun, one thing

ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS

is clear: there cannot be very many of him in a community. I do
not mean merely in the general sense in which there are not likely
to be many virtuous men, on the ground that virtue is difficult;
what I mean is that the virtues of the magnanimous man largely
depend upon his having an exceptional social position. Aristotle
considers ethics a branch of politics, and it is not surprising, after
his praise of pride, to find that he considers monarchy the best
form of government, and aristocracy the next best. Monarchs and
aristocrats can be "magnanimous," but ordinary citizens would
be laughable if they attempted to live up to such a pattern.

This brings up a question which is half ethical, half political.
Can we regard as morally satisfactory a community which, by its
essential constitution, confines the best things to a few, and
requires the majority to be content with the second-best? Plato
and Aristotle say yes, and Nietzsche agrees with them. Stoics,
Christians, and democrats say no. But there are great differences
in their ways of saying no. Stoics and early Christians consider
that the greatest pood is virtue, and that external circumstances
cannot prevent a man from being virtuous; there is therefore no
need to seek a just social system, since social injustice affects only
unimportant matters. The democrat, on the contrary, usually
holds that, at least so far as politics are concerned, the most
important goods are power and property; he cannot, therefore,
acquiesce in a social system which is unjust in these respects.

The Stoic-Christian view requires a conception of virtue very
different from Aristotle's, since it must hold that virtue is as
possible for the slave as for his master. Christian ethics dis-
approves of pride, which Aristotle thinks a virtue, and praises
humility, which he thinks a vice. The intellectual virtues, which
Plato and Aristotle value above all others, have to be thrust out
of the list altogether, in order that the poor and humble may be
able to be as virtuous as any one else. Pope Gregory the Great
solemnly reproved a bishop for teaching grammar.

The Aristotelian view, that the highest virtue is for the few, is
logically connected with the subordination of ethics to politics,
if the aim is the good community rather than the good individual,
it i« possible that the good community may be one in which there
is subordination. In an orchestra, the first violin is more important
than the oboe, though both arc necessary for the excellence of the
whole. It is impossible to organize an orchestra on the principle

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WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

of giving to each man what would be best lor him as an isolated
individual. The same sort of thing applies to the government of a
large modern State, however democratic. A modern democracy
— unlike those of antiquity— confers great power upon certain
chosen individuals, Presidents or Prime Ministers, and must expect
of them kinds of merit which are not expected of the ordinary
citizen. When people are not thinking in terms of religion or
political controversy, they are likely to hold that a good President
is more to be honoured than a good bricklayer. In a democracy
a President is not expected to be quite like Aristotle's magnani-
mous man, but still he is expected to be rather different from the
average citizen, and to have certain merits connected with his
station. These peculiar merits would perhaps not be considered
"ethical,*1 but that is because we use this adjective in a narrower
sense than that in which it is used by Aristotle.

As a result of Christian dogma, the distinction between moral
and other merits has become much sharper than it was in Greek
times. It is a merit in a man to be a great poet or composer or
painter, but not a moral merit; we do not consider him the more
virtuous for possessing such aptitudes, or the more likely to go
to heaven. Moral merit is concerned solely with acts of will, i.e.
with choosing rightly among possible courses of action.1 I am not
to blame for not composing an opera, because I don't know how
to do it. The orthodox view is that, wherever two courses of action
are possible, conscience tells me which is right, and to choose the
other is sin. Virtue consists mainly in the avoidance of sin, rather
than in anything positive. There is no reason to expect an educated
man to be morally better than an uneducated man, or a clever
man than a stupid man. In this way, a number of merits of great
social importance are shut out from the realm of ethics. The
adjective "unethical," in modern usage, has a much narrower
range than the adjective "undesirable.11 It is undesirable to be
feeble-minded, but not unethical.

Many modern philosophers, however, have not accepted this
view of ethics. They have thought that one should first define the
good, and then say that our actions ought to be such as tend to
realize the good. This point of view is more like that of Aristotle,
who holds that happiness is the good. The highest happiness, it

1 It i* true that Aristotle also say* this (i 105'), but as he means it the
consequences are not so far-reaching as in the Christian interpretation.

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ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS

is true, is only open to the philosopher, but to Aristotle that is no
objection to the theory.

Ethical theories may be divided into two classes, according as
they regard virtue as an end or a means. Aristotle, on the whole,
takes the view that virtues are means to an end, namely happiness.
"The end, then, being what we wish for, the means what we
deliberate about and choose, actions concerning means must be
according to choice and voluntary. Now the exercise of the virtues
is concerned with means" (iii36). But there is another sense of
virtue in which it is included in the ends of action: "Human good
is activity of soul in accordance with virtue in a complete life"
(1098*). I think he would say that the intellectual virtues are ends,
but the practical virtues are only means. Christian moralists hold
that, while the consequences of virtuous actions are in general
good, they are not as good as the virtuous actions themselves,
which are to be valued on their own account, and not on account
of their effects. On the other hand, those who consider pleasure
the good regard virtues solely as means. Any other definition of
the good, except the definition as virtue, will have the same conse-
quence, that virtues are means to goods other than themselves.
On this question, Aristotle, as already said, agrees mainly, though
not wholly, with those who think the first business of ethics is to
define the good, and that virtue is to be defined as action tending
to produce the good.

The relation of ethics to politics raises another ethical question
of considerable importance. Granted that the good at which right
action should aim is the good of the whole community, or, ulti-
mately, of the whole human race, is this social good a sum of
goods enjoyed by individuals, or is it something belonging
essentially to the whole, not to the parts ? We may illustrate the
problem by the analogy of the human body. Pleasures are largely
associated with different parts of the body, but we consider them
as belonging to a person as a whole; we may enjoy a pleasant
smell, but we know that the nose alone could not enjoy it. Some
contend that, in a closely organized community, there are, analo-
gously, excellences belonging to the whole, but not to any part.
If they are metaphysicians, they may hold, like Hegel, that what-
ever quality is good is an attribute of the universe as a whole;
but they will generally add that it is less mistaken to attribute good
to a State thap to an individual. logically, the view may be put

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WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

as follows. We can attribute to a State various predicates that
cannot be attributed to its separate members — that it is populous,
extensive, powerful, etc. The view we are considering puts ethical
predicates in this class, and says that they only derivatively belong
to individuals. A man may belong to a populous State, or to a
good State; but he, they say, is no more good than he is populous.
This view, which has been widely held by German philosophers,
is not Aristotle's, except possibly, in some degree, in his conception
of justice.

A considerable part of the Ethics is occupied with the discussion
of friendship, including all relations that involve affection. Perfect
friendship is only possible between the good, and it is impossible
to be friends with many people. One should not be friends with a
person of higher station than one's own, unless he is also of higher
virtue, which will justify the respect shown to him. \Ve have seen
that, in unequal relations, such as those of man and wife or father
and son, the superior should be the more loved. It is impossible
to be friends with God, because He cannot love us. Aristotle
discusses whether a man can be a friend to himself, and decides
that this is only possible if he is a good man; wicked men, he
asserts, often hate themselves. The good man should love himself,
but nobly (1169*). Friends are a comfort in misfortune, but one
should not make them unhappy by seeking their sympathy, as is
done by women and womanish men (1171*). It is not only in
misfortune that friends are desirable, for the happy man needs
friends with whom to share his happiness. "No one would choose
the whole world on condition of being alone, since man is a
political creature and one whose nature is to live with others"
(1169*). All that is said about friendship is sensible, but there is
not a word that rises above common sense.

Aristotle again shows his good sense in the discussion of pleasure,
which Plato had regarded somewhat ascetically. Pleasure, as
Aristotle uses the word, is distinct from happiness, though there
can be no happiness without pleasure. There are, he says, three
views of pleasure: (i) that it is never good; (2) that some pleasure-
is good, but most is bad; (3) that pleasure is good, but not the
best. He rejects the first of these on the ground that pain is cer-
tainly bad, and therefore pleasure must be good. He says, very
justly, that it is nonsense to say a man can be happy on the rack :
some degree of external good fortune is necessary for happiness.

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ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS

tie also disposes of the view that all pleasures are bodily ; all things
have something divine, and therefore some capacity for higher
pleasures. Good men have pleasure unless they are unfortunate,
and God always enjoys a single and simple pleasure (1152-1154).

There is another discussion of pleasure, in a later pan of the
book, which is not wholly consistent with the above. Here it is
argued that there are bad pleasures, which, however, are not
pleasures to pood people (1173*); that perhaps pleasures differ in
kind (ibid.) ; and that pleasures are good or bad according as they
are connected with good or bad activities (1175*). There are things
that are valued more than pleasure; no one would be content to
go through life with a child's intellect, even if it were pleasant to
do so. Each animal has its proper pleasure, and the proper pleasure
of man is connected with reason.

This leads on to the only doctrine in the book which is not mere
common sense. Happiness lies in virtuous activity, and perfect
happiness lies in the best activity, which is contemplative. Con-
templation is preferable to war or politics or any other practical
career, because it allows leisure, and leisure is essential to happi-
ness. Practical virtue brings only a secondary kind of happiness;
the supreme happiness is in the exercise of reason, for reason,
more than anything else, is man. Man cannot be wholly contem-
plative, but in so far as he is so he shares in the divine life. "The
activity of God, which surpasses all others in blessedness, must
be contemplative." Of all human beings, the philosopher is the
most godlike in his activity, and therefore the happiest and best:

I Ic who exercises his reason and cultivates it seems to be both
in the be*»t state of mind and most dear to the gods. For if the gods
have any care for human affairs, as they are thought to have, it
would be reasonable both that they should delight in that which
was best and most akin to them (i.e. reason) and that they should
reward those who love and honour this most, as caring for the
things that are dear to them and acting both rightly and nobly.
And that all these attributes belong most of all to the philosopher
is manifest. He, therefore, is the dearest to the gods. And he who
is that will presumably be also the happiest; so that in this way
too the philosopher will more than any other be happy (1179*).

This passage is virtually the peroration of the Ethics-, the few

paragraphs that follow are concerned with the transition to politics.

Let us now try to decide what we are to think of the merits and

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demerits of the Ethics. Unlike many other subjects treated by
Greek philosophers, ethics has not made any definite advances,
in the sense of ascertained discoveries ; nothing in ethics is known
in a scientific sense. There is therefore no reason why an ancient
treatise on it should be in any respect inferior to a modern one.
When Aristotle talks about astronomy, we can say definitely that
he is wrong; but when he talks about ethics we cannot say, in
the same sense, either that he is wrong or that he is right. Broadly
speaking, there are three questions that we can ask about the
ethics of Aristotle, or of any other philosopher: (i) Is it internally
self-consistent? (2) Is it consistent with the remainder of the
author's views ? (3) Does it give answers to ethical problems that
are consonant to our own ethical feelings ? If the answer to cither
the first or second question is in the negative, the philosopher in
question has been guilty of some intellectual error. But if the
answer to the third question is in the negative, we have no right
to say that he is mistaken ; we have only the right to say that we
do not like him.

Let us examine these three questions in turn, as regards the
ethical theory set forth in the Nicomachean Ethics.

(1) On the whole, the book is self-consistent, except in a few
not very important respects. The doctrine that the good is happi-
ness, and that happiness consists in successful activity, is well
worked out. The doctrine that every virtue is a mean between
two extremes, though very ingeniously developed, is less successful,
since it does not apply to intellectual contemplation, which, we
are told, is the best of all activities. It can, however, be maintained
that the doctrine of the mean is only intended to apply to the
practical virtues, not to, those of the intellect. Perhaps, to take
another point, the position of the legislator is somewhat ambiguous.
He is to cause children and young people to acquire the habit of
performing good actions, which mil, in the end, lead them to find
pleasure in virtue, and to act virtuously without the need of legal
compulsion. It is obvious that the legislator might equally well
cause the young to acquire bad habits; if this is to be avoided, he
must have all the wisdom of a Platonic guardian ; and if it is not
avoided, the argument that a virtuous life is pleasant will fail.
This problem, however, belongs perhaps more to politics than
to ethics.

(2) Aristotle's ethics is, at all points, consistent with his meta-

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physics. Indeed, his metaphysical theories are themselves the
expression of an ethical optimism. He believes in the scientific
importance of final causes, and this implies the belief that purpose
governs the course of development in the universe. He thinks
that changes are, in the main, such as embody an increase of
organization or "form," and at bottom virtuous actions are those
that favour this tendency. It is true that a great deal of his practical
ethics is not particularly philosophical, but merely the result of
observation of human affairs ; but this part of his doctrine, though
it may be independent of his metaphysics, is not inconsistent
with it.

(3) When we come to compare Aristotle's ethical tastes with
our own, we find, in the first place, as already noted, an acceptance
of inequality which is repugnant to much modern sentiment.
Not only is there no objection to slavery, or to the superiority
of husbands and fathers over wives and children, but it is held
that what is best is essentially only for the few — magnanimous
men and philosophers. Most men, it would seem to follow, are
mainly means for the production of a few rulers and sages. Kant
maintained that every human being is an end in himself, and this
may be taken as an expression of the view introduced by Christi-
anity. There is, however, a logical difficulty in Kant's view, since
it gives no means of reaching a decision when two men's interests
clash. If each is an end in himself, how are we to arrive at a prin-
ciple for determining which shall give way? Such a principle
must have to do with the community rather than with the indi-
vidual. In the broadest sense of the word, it will have to be a
principle of "justice." Benthum and the utilitarians interpret
"justice" as "equality": when two men's interests clash, the right
course is that which produces the greatest total of happiness,
regardless of which of the two enjoys it, or how it is shared among
them. If more is given to the better man than to the worse, that
is because, in the long run, the general happiness is increased by
rewarding virtue and punishing vice, not because of an ultimate
ethical doctrine that the good deserve more than the bad. "Justice,"
in this view, consists in considering only the amount of happiness
involved, without favour to one individual or class as against
another. Greek philosophers, including Plato and Aristotle, had
a different conception of justice, and it is one which is still widely
prevalent. They thought — originally on grounds derived from

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WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

religion — that each thing or person had its or his proper sphere,
to overstep which is "unjust." Some men, in virtue of their
character and aptitudes, have a wider sphere than others, and
there is no injustice if they enjoy a greater share of happiness.
This view is taken for granted in Aristotle, but its basis in primitive
religion, which is evident in the earliest philosophers, is no longer
apparent in his writings.

There is in Aristotle an almost complete absence of what may
be called benevolence or philanthropy. The sufferings of mankind,
in so far as he is aware of them do not move him emotionally;
he holds them, intellectually, to be an evil, but there is no evidence
that they cause him unhappiness except when the sufferers happen
to be his friends.

More generally, there is an emotional poverty in the Ethics,
which is not found in the earlier philosophers. There is something
unduly smug and comfortable about Aristotle's speculations on
human affairs; everything that makes men feel a passionate interest
in each other seems to be forgotten. Even his account of friend-
ship is tepid. He shows no sign of having had any of those experi-
ences which make it difficult to preserve sanity; all the more
profound aspects of the moral life are apparently unknown to him.
He leaves out, one may say, the whole sphere of human experi-
ence with which religion is concerned. What he ha,s to say is
what will be useful to comfortable men of weak passions; but he
has nothing to say to those who are possessed by a god or a devil,
or whom outward misfortune drives to despair. For these reasons,
in my judgment, his Ethics, in spite of its fame, is lacking in
intrinsic importance.

206

Chapter XXI
ARISTOTLE'S POLITICS

ARISTOTLE'S Politics is both interesting and important —
interesting, as showing the common prejudices of educated
Greeks in his time, and important as a source of many prin-
ciples which remained influential until the end of the Middle
Ages. I do not think there is much in it that could be of any practical
use to a statesman of the present day, but there is a great deal
that throws light on the conflicts of parties in different parts of
the Hellenic world. There is not very much awareness of methods
of government in non-Hellenic States. There are, it is true,
allusions to Egypt, Babylon, Persia, and Carthage, but except in
the case of Carthage they are somewhat perfunctory. There is
no mention of Alexander, and not even the faintest awareness of
the complete transformation that he was effecting in the world.
The whole discussion is concerned with City States, and there is
no prevision of their obsolescence. Greece, owing to its division
into independent cities, was a laboratory of political experiment;
but nothing to which these experiments were relevant existed
from Aristotle's time until the rise of the Italian cities in the Middle
Ages. In many ways, the experience to which Aristotle appeals is
more relevant to the comparatively modern world than to any
that existed for fifteen hundred years after the book was written.
There are many pleasant incidental remarks, some of which
may be noted before we embark upon political theory. We are
told that Euripides, when he was staying at the court of Archelaus,
King of Macedon, was accused of halitosis by a certain Decam-
nichus. To soothe his fury, the king gave him permission to
scourge Decarnnichus, which he did. Decamnichus, after waiting
many years, joined in a successful plot to kill the king; but by
this time Euripides was dead. We are told that children should
be conceived in winter, when the wind is in the north ; that there
must be a careful avoidance of indecency, because "shameful
words lead to shameful acts," and that obscenity is never to be
tolerated except in temples, where the law permits even ribaldry.
People should not marry too young, because, if they do, the
children will be weak and female, the wives will become wanton,

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WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

and the husbands stunted in their growth. The right age for
marriage is thirty-seven in men, eighteen in women.

We learn how Thales, being taunted with his poverty, bought up
all the olive-presses on the instalment plan, and was then able to
charge monopoly rates for their use. This he did to show that
philosophers can make money, and, if they remain poor, it is
because they have something more important than wealth to
think about. All this, however, is by the way ; it is time to come to
more serious matters.

The book begins by pointing out the importance of the State ;
it is the highest kind of community, and aims at the highest good.
In order of time, the family comes first ; it is built on the two
fundamental relations of man and woman, master and slave, both
of which are natural. Several families combined make a village ;
several villages, a State, provided the combination is nearly large
enough to be self-sufficing. The State, though later in time than
the family, is prior to it, and even to the individual, by nature;
for "what each thing is when fully developed we call its nature/'
and human society, fully developed, is a State, and the whole
is prior to the part. The conception involved here is that of
organism: a hand, when the body is destroyed, is, we are told, no
longer a hand. The implication is that a hand is to be defined by
its purpose — that of grasping — which it can only perform when
joined to a living body. In like manner an individual cannot fulfil
his purpose unless he is part of a State. He who founded the
State, Aristotle says, was the greatest of benefactors; for without
law man is the worst of animals, and law depends for its existence
on the State. The State is not a mere society for exchange and the
prevention of crime: "The end of the State is the good life.
. . . And the State is the union of families and villages in a
perfect and self-sufficing life, by which we mean a happy and
honourable life" (1280*). "A political society exists for the sake
of noble actions, not of mere companionship" (1281°).

A State being composed of households, each of which consists
of one family, the discussion of politics should begin with the
family. The bulk of this discussion is concerned with slavery —
for in antiquity the slaves were always reckoned as pan of the
family. Slavery is expedient and right, but the slave should be
naturally inferior to the master. From birth, some are marked out
for subjection, others for rule; the man who is by nature not his

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ARISTOTLE'S POLITICS

own but another man's is by nature a slave. Slaves should not be
Greeks, but of an inferior race with less spirit (1255* and 1330*).
Tame animals are better off when ruled by man, and so are those
who are naturally inferior when ruled by their superiors. It may
be questioned whether the practice of making slaves out of
prisoners of war is justified ; power, such as leads to victory in
war, seems to imply superior virtue, but this is not always the
case. War, however, is just when waged against men who, though
intended by nature to be governed, will not submit (1256*); and
in this case, it is implied, it would be right to make slaves of the
conquered. This would seem enough to justify any conqueror who
ever lived ; for no nation will admit that it is intended by nature to
be governed, and the only evidence as to nature's intentions
must be derived from the outcome of war. In every war, therefore,
the victors are in the right and the vanquished in the wrong.
Very satisfactory !

Next comes a discussion of trade, which profoundly influenced
scholastic casuistry. There are two uses of a thing, one proper,
the other improper; a shoe, for instance, may be worn, which is
its proper use, or exchanged, which is its improper use. It follows
that there is something degraded about a shoemaker, who must
exchange his shoes in order to live. Retail trade, we are told, is
not a natural part of the art of getting wealth (1257*). The natural
way to get wealth is by skilful management of house and land.
To the wealth that can be made in this way there is a limit, but
to what can be made by trade there is none. Trade has to do with
money, but wealth is not the acquisition of coin. Wealth derived
from trade is justly hated, because it is unnatural. "The most
hated sort, and with the greatest reason, is usury, which makes
a gain out of money itself, and not from the natural object of it.
For money was intended to be used in exchange, but not to increase
at interest. ... Of all modes of getting wealth this is the most
unnatural" (1258).

What came of this dictum you may read in Tawney's Religion
and the Rise oj Capitalism. But while his history is reliable, his
comment has a bias in favour of what is pre-capitalistic.

44 Usury" means all lending money at interest, not only, as now,
lending at an exorbitant rate. From Greek times to the present
day, mankind, or at least the economically more developed
portion of them, have been divided into debtors and creditors;

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WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

debtors have disapproved of interest, and creditors have approved
of it. At most times, landowners have been debtors, while men
engaged in commerce have been creditors. The views of philo-
sophers, with few exceptions, have coincided with the pecuniary
interests of their class. Greek philosophers belonged to, or were
employed by, the landowning class; they therefore disapproved
of interest. Medieval philosophers were churchmen, and the
property of the Church was mainly in land ; they therefore saw
no reason to revise Aristotle's opinion. Their objection to usury
was reinforced by anti-Semitism, for most fluid capital was
Jewish. Ecclesiastics and barons had their quarrels, sometimes
very bitter; but they could combine against the wicked Jew who
had tided them over a bad harvest by means of a loan, and con-
sidered that he deserved some reward for his thrift.

With the Reformation, the situation changed. Many of the
most earnest Protestants were business men, to whom lending
money at interest was essential. Consequently first Calvin, and
then other Protestant divines, sanctioned interest. At last the
Catholic Church was compelled to follow suit, because the old
prohibitions did not suit the modern world. Philosophers, whose
incomes are derived from the investments of universities, have
favoured interest ever since they ceased to be ecclesiastics and
therefore connected with landowning. At every stage, theie has
been a wealth of theoretical argument to support the economically
convenient opinion.

Plato's Utopia is criticized by Aristotle on various grounds.
There is first the very interesting comment that it gives too much
unity to the State, and would make it into an individual. Next
comes the kind of argument against the proposed abolition of the
family that naturally occurs to every reader. Plato thinks that, by
merely giving the title of "son'* to all who are of an age that makes
their sonship possible, a man will acquire towards the whole
multitude the sentiments that men have at present towards their
actual sons, and correlatively as regards the title "father/* Aristotle,
on the contrary, says that what is common to the greatest number
receives the least care, and that if "sons'1 are common to many
"fathers" they will be neglected in common; it is better to be
a cousin in reality than a "son" in Plato's sense ; Plato's plan would
make love watery. Then there is a curious argument that, since
abstinence from adultery is a virtue, it would be a pity to have

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ARISTOTLE'S POLITICS

a social system which abolishes this virtue and the correlative
vice (1263*). Then we are asked: if women are common, who
will manage the house ? I wrote an essay once, called "Architecture
and the Social System," in which I pointed out that all who
combine communism with abolition of the family also advocate
communal houses for large numbers, with communal kitchens,
dining-rooms, and nurseries. This system may be described as
monasteries without celibacy. It is essential to the carrying out of
Plato's plans, but it is certainly not more impossible than many
other things that he recommends.

Plato's communism annoys Aristotle. It would lead, he says,
to anger against lazy people, and to the sort of quarrels that are
common between fellow-travellers. It is better if each minds his
own business. Property should be private, but people should be
so trained in benevolence as to allow the use of it to be largely
common. Benevolence and generosity are virtues, and without
pr vate property they are impossible. Finally we are told that, if
Plato's plans were good, someone would have thought of them
sooner.1 I do not agree with Plato, but if anything could make
me do so, it would be Aristotle's arguments against him.

As we have seen in connection with slavery, Aristotle is no
Miever in equality. Granted, however, the subjection of slaves
and women, it still remains a question whether all citizens should
be politically equal. Some men, he says, think this desirable, on
the ground that all revolutions turn on the regulation of property,
lie rejects this argument, maintaining that the greatest crimes
are due to excess rather than want ; no man becomes a tyrant in
order to avoid feeling the cold.

A government is good when it aims at the good of the whole
community, bad when it cares only for itself. There are three kinds
of government that are good: monarchy, aristocracy, and consti-
tutional government (or polity); there are three that are bad:
tyranny, oligarchy, and democracy. There are also many mixed
intermediate forms. It will be observed that the good and bad
governments are defined by the ethical qualities of the holders of
power, not by the form of the constitution. This, however, is

1 Ct. Tlit Noodle's Oration in Sydney Smith; "If the proposal be
bound, would the Saxon have passed it by ? Would the Dane have ignored
it? Would it have escaped the wisdom of the Norman?" (I quote from
memory. )

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WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

only partly true. An aristocracy is a rule of men of virtue, an
oligarchy is a rule of the rich, and Aristotle does not consider
virtue and wealth strictly synonymous. What he holds, in accord-
ance with the doctrine of the golden mean, is that a moderate
competence is most likely to be associated with virtue: "Mankind
do not acquire or preserve virtue by the help of external goods,
but external goods by the help of virtue, and happiness, whether
consisting in pleasure or virtue, or both, is more often found
with those who are most highly cultivated in their mind and in
their character, and have only a moderate share of external poods,
than among those who possess external goods to a useless extent
but are deficient in higher qualities*' (1323* and ')- There is
therefore a difference between the rule of the best (aristocracy)
and of the richest (oligarchy), since the best are likely to have
only moderate fortunes. There is also a difference between demo-
cracy and polity, in addition to the ethical difference in the govern-
ment, for what Aristotle calls "polity" retains some oligarchic
elements (1293*). But between monarchy and tyranny the only
difference is ethical.

He is emphatic in distinguishing oligarchy and democracy by
the economic status of the governing party: there is oligarchy
when the rich govern without consideration for the poor, demo-
cracy when power is in the hands of the needy and they disregard
the interest of the rich.

Monarchy is better than aristocracy, aristocracy is better than
polity. But the corruption of the best is worst ; therefore tyranny
is worse than oligarchy, and oligarchy than democracy. In this
way Aristotle arrives at a qualified defence of democracy; for
most Actual governments are bad, and therefore, among actual
governments, democracies tend to be best.

The Greek conception of democracy was in many ways more
extreme than ours; for instance, Aristotle says that to elect magis-
trates is oligarchic, while it is democratic to appoint them by lot.
In extreme democracies, the assembly of the citizens was above the
law, and decided each question independently. The Athenian
law-courts were composed of a large number of citizens chosen
by lot, unaided by any jurist ; they were, of course, liable to be
swayed by eloquence or party passion. When democracy is
criticized, it must be understood that this sort of thing is
meant.

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ARISTOTLE'S POLITICS

There is a long discussion of causes of revolution. In Greece,
revolutions were as frequent as formerly in Latin America, and
therefore Aristotle had a copious experience from which to draw
inferences. The main cause was the conflict of oligarchs and
democrats. Democracy, Aristotle says, arises from the belief that
men who are equally free should be equal in all respects; oligarchy,
from the fact that men who are superior in some respect claim
too much. Both have a kind of justice, but not the best kind.
"Therefore both parties, whenever their share in the government
does not accord with their preconceived ideas, stir up revolution"
(1301*). Democratic governments are less liable to revolutions
than oligarchies, because oligarchs may fall out with each other.
The oligarchs seem to have been vigorous fellows. In some cities,
we are told, they swore an oath : "I will be an enemy to the people,
and will devise all the harm against them which I can." Nowadays
reactionaries are not so frank.

The three things needed to prevent revolution are government
propaganda in education, respect for law, even in small things,
and justice in law and administration, i.e., "equality according
to proportion, and for every man to enjoy his own" (1307*,
I3°7b^ *310*)' Aristotle never seems to have realized the difficulty
of "equality according to proportion." If this is to be true justice,
the proportion must be of virtue. Now virtue is difficult to measure,
and is a matter of party controversy. In political practice, therefore,
virtue tends to be measured by income; the distinction between
aristocracy and oligarchy, which Aristotle attempts to make, is
only possible where there is a very well-established hereditary
nobility. Even then, as soon as there exists a large class of rich
men who are not noble, they have to be admitted to power for
fear of their making a revolution. Hereditary aristocracies cannot
long retain their power except where land is almost the only
source of wealth. All social inequality, in the long run, is inequality
of income. That is part of the argument for democracy: that the
attempt to have a "proportionate justice" based on any merit
other than wealth is sure to break down. Defenders of oligarchy
pretend that income is proportional to virtue; the prophet said
he had never seen a righteous man begging his bread, and Aristotle
thinks that good men acquire just about his own income, neither
very large nor very small. But such views are absurd. Eveiy kind
of 4 'justice" other than absolute equality will, in practice, reward

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

some quality quite other than virtue, and is therefore to be
condemned.

There is an interesting section on tyranny. A tyrant desires
riches, whereas a king desires honour. The tyrant has guards who
are mercenaries, whereas the king has guards who are citizens.
Tyrants are mostly demagogues, who acquire power by promising
to protect the people against the notables. In an ironically Machia-
vellian tone, Aristotle explains what a tyrant must do to retain
power. He must prevent the rise of any person of exceptional
merit, by execution or assassination if necessary. He must prohibit
common meals, clubs, and any education likely to produce hostile
sentiment. There must be no literary assemblies or discussions.
He must prevent people from knowing each other well, and
compel them to live in public at his gates. He should employ
spies, like the female detectives at Syracuse. He must sow quarrels,
and impoverish his subjects. He should keep them occupied in
great works, as the king of Egypt did in getting the pyramids
built. He should give power to women and slaves, to make them
informers. He should make war, in order that his subjects may
have something to do and be always in want of a leader (131 3'
and *).

It is a melancholy reflection that this passage is, of the whole
book, the one most appropriate to the present day. Aristotle
concludes that there is no wickedness too great for a tyrant. There-
is, however, he says, another method of preserving a tyranny,
namely by moderation and by seeming religious. There is no
decision as to which method is likely to prove the more successful.

There is a long argument to prove that foreign conquest is not
the end of the State, showing that many people took the imperialist
view. There is, it is true, an exception: conquest of "natural
slaves" is right and just. This would, in Aristotle's view, justify
wars against barbarians, but not against Greeks, for no Greeks
are '"natural slaves." In general, war is only a means, not an end;
a city in an isolated situation, where conquest is not possible,
may be happy; States that live in isolation need not be inactive.
God and the universe are active, though foreign conquest is
impossible for them. The happiness that a State should seek,
therefore, though war may sometimes be a necessary means to it,
should not be war, but the activities of peace.

This leads to the question : how large should a State be ? Large

ARISTOTLE'S POLITICS

cities, we are told, are never well governed, because a great multi-
tude cannot be orderly. A State ought to be large enough to be
more or less self-sufficing, but not too large for constitutional
government. It ought to be small enough for the citizens to know
each other's characters, otherwise right will not be done in elections
and law-suits. The territory should be small enough to be surveyed
in its entirety from a hill-top. We are told both that it should be
self-sufficient (1326*) and that it should have an export and
import trade (1327*), which seems an inconsistency.

Men who work for their living should not be admitted to citizen-
ship. " Citizens should not lead the life of mechanics or tradesmen,
for such a life is ignoble and inimical to virtue." Nor should they
be husbandmen, because they need leisure. The citizens should
own the property, but the husbandmen should be slaves of a
different race (1330°). Northern races, we are told, are spirited;
southern races, intelligent ; therefore slaves should be of southern
races, since it is inconvenient if they are spirited. The Greeks
alone are both spirited and intelligent ; they are better governed
than barbarians, and if united could rule the world (1327*). One
might have expected at this point some allusion to Alexander,
but there is none.

With regard to the size of States, Aristotle makes, on a different
scale, the same mistake that is made by many modern liberals.
A State must be able to defend itself in war, and even, if any
liberal culture is to survive, to defend itself without very great
difficulty. I low large this requires a State to be, depends upon the
technique of war and industry. In Aristotle's day, the City State
was obsolete because it could not defend itself against Macedonia.
In our day, Greece as a whole, including Macedonia, is obsolete
in this sense, as has been recently proved.1 To advocate complete
independence for Greece, or any other small country, is now as
futile as to advocate complete independence for a single city,
whose territory can be seen entire from an eminence. There can
be no true independence except for a State or alliance strong
enough, by its own efforts, to repel all attempts at foreign conquest.
Nothing smaller than America and the British Empire combined
will satisfy this requirement; and perhaps even this would be
too small a unit.

The book, which, in the form in which we have it, appears to
1 Thh was written in May, 194".

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

be unfinished, ends with a discussion of education. Education,
of course, is only for children who are going to be citizens ; slaves
may be taught useful arts, such as cooking, but these are no part
of education. The citizen should be moulded to the form of
government under which he lives, and there should therefore be
differences according as the city in question is oligarchic or
democratic. In the discussion, however, Aristotle assumes that
the citizens will all have a share of political power. Children
should learn what is useful to them, but not vulgarizing; for
instance, they should not be taught any skill that deforms the
body, or that would enable them to earn money. They should
practise athletics in moderation, but not to the point of acquiring
professional skill; the boys who train for the Olympic games
suffer in health, as is shown by the fact that those who have been
victors as boys are hardly ever victors as men. Children should
learn drawing, in order to appreciate the beauty of the human
form; and they should be taught to appreciate such painting and
sculpture as expresses moral ideas. They may learn to sing and to
play musical instruments enough to be able to enjoy music
critically, but not enough to be skilled performers ; for no freeman
would play or sing unless drunk. They must of course, learn to
read and write, in spite of the usefulness of these arts. But the
purpose of education is "virtue," not usefulness. What Aristotle
means by "virtue" he has told us in the Ethics, to which this book
frequently refers.

Aristotle's fundamental assumptions, in his Politics, are very
different from those of any modern writer. The aim of the State,
in his view, is to produce cultured gentlemen — men who combine
the aristocratic mentality with love of learning and the arts
This combination existed, in its highest perfection, in the Athens
of Pericles, not in the population at large, but among the well-
to-do. It began to break down in the last years of Pericles. The
populace, who had no culture, turned against the friends of
Pericles, who were driven to defend the privileges of the rich,
by treachery, assassination, illegal despotism, and other such
not very gentlemanly methods. After the death of Socrates,
the bigotry of the Athenian democracy diminished, and Athens
remained the centre of ancient culture, but political power went
elsewhere. Throughout later antiquity, power and culture were
usually separate: power was in the hands of rough soldiers,

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culture belonged to powerless Greeks, often slaves. This is only
partially true of Rome in its great days, but it is emphatically
true before Cicero and after Marcus Aurelius. After the barbarian
invasion, the "gentlemen" were northern barbarians, the men
of culture subtle southern ecclesiastics. This state of affairs
continued, more or less, until the Renaissance, when the laity
began to acquire culture. From the Renaissance onwards, the
Creek conception of government by cultured gentlemen gradually
prevailed more and more, reaching its acme in the eighteenth
century.

Various forces have put an end to this state of affairs. First,
democracy, as embodied in the French Revolution and its after-
math. The cultured gentlemen, as after the age of Pericles, had
to defend their privileges against the populace, and in the process
ceased to he either gentlemen or cultured. A second cause was
the rise of industrialism, with a scientific technique very different
from traditional culture. A third cause was popular education,
which conferred the power to read and write, but did not confer
culture; this enabled a new type of demagogue to practise a new
type of propaganda, as seen in the dictatorships.

Both for good and evil, therefore, the day of the cultured
gentleman is past.

-21"

Chapter XXII
ARISTOTLE'S LOGIC

ARISTOTLE'S influence, which was very great in many
different fields, was greatest of all in logic. In late antiquity,
when Plato was still supreme in metaphysics, Aristotle was
the recognized authority in logic, and he retained this position
throughout the Middle Ages. It was not till the thirteenth century
that Christian philosophers accorded him supremacy in the field
of metaphysics. This supremacy was largely lost after the Renais-
sance, but his supremacy in logic survived. Even at the present
day, all Catholic teachers of philosophy and many others still
obstinately reject the discoveries of modern logic, and adhere
with a strange tenacity to a system which is as definitely antiquated
as Ptolemaic astronomy. This makes it difficult to do historical
justice to Aristotle. His present-day influence is so inimical to
clear thinking that it is hard to remember how great an advance
he made upon all his predecessors (including Plato), or how
admirable his logical work would still seem if it had been a stage
in a continual progress, instead of being (as in fact it was) a dead
end, followed by over two thousand years of stagnation. In dealing
with the predecessors of Aristotle, it is not necessary to remind
the reader that they are not verbally inspired; one can therefore
praise them for their ability without being supposed to subscrilxr
to all their doctrines. Aristotle, on the contrary, is still, especially
in logic, a battle-ground, and cannot be treated in a purely his-
torical spirit.

Aristotle's most important work in logic is the doctrine of the
syllogism. A syllogism is an argument consisting of three parts, a
major premiss, a minor premiss, and a conclusion. Syllogisms
are of a number of different kinds, each of which has a name,
given by the scholastics. The most familiar ts the kind called
"Barbara":

All men are mortal (Major premiss).
Socrates is a man (Minor premiss).
Therefore: Socrates is mortal (Conclusion)

21*

ARISTOTLE'S LOGIC

Or: all men are mortal.

AH Greeks are men.

Therefore: All Greeks are mortal.

(Aristotle docs not distinguish between these two forms; this, as
we shall sec later, is a mistake.)

Other forms are: No fishes are rational, oil sharks are fishes,
therefore no sharks are rational. (This is called "Celarent.")

All men are rational, some animals are men, therefore some
animals are rational. (This is called "Darii.")

No Greeks are black, some men are Greeks, therefore some men
are not black. (This is called "Ferio.") x

These four make up the "first figure"; Aristotle adds a second
and third figure, and the schoolmen added a fourth. It is *hown
that the three later figures can be reduced to the first by various
devices.

There are some inferences that can be made from a single
premiss. From "some men are mortal" we can infer that "some
mortals are men." According to Aristotle, this can be also inferred
from "all men are mortal." From "no gods are mortal" we can
infer "no mortals are gods," but from "some men are not Greeks"
it does not follow that "some Greeks are not men."

Apart from such inferences as the above, Aristotle and his
followers thought that all deductive inference, when strictly
stated, is syllogistic. By setting forth all the valid kinds of syllogism,
and setting out any suggested argument in syllogistic form, it
should therefore be possible to avoid all fallacies.

This system was the beginning of formal logic, and, as such, was
both important and admirable. But considered as the end, not the
beginning, of formal logic, it is open to three kinds of criticism:

(1) Formal defects within the system itself.

(2) Over-estimation of the syllogism, as compared to other
forms of deductive argument.

(3) Over-estimation of deduction as a- form of argument.
On each of these three, something must be said.

(i) Formal defect*. Ix?t us begin with the two statements
"Socrates is a man" and "all Greeks are men." It is necessary to
make a sharp distinction between these two, which is not done
in Aristotelian logic. The statement "all Greeks arc men" is
commonly interpreted ss implying that there are Greeks: without

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WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

this implication, some of Aristotle's syllogisms are not valid.
Take for instance:

"All Greeks are men, All Greeks are white, therefore some
men are white." This is valid if there are Greeks, but not otherwise.
If I were to say :

"All golden mountains are mountains, all golden mountains
are golden, therefore some mountains are golden," my conclusion
would be false, though in some sense my premisses would be
true. If we are to be explicit, we must therefore divide the one
statement "all Greeks are men" into two, one saying "there are
Greeks," and the other saying "if anything is a Greek it is a man."
The latter statement is purely hypothetical, and does not imply
that there are Greeks.

The statement "all Greeks are men" is thus much more
complex in form than the statement "Socrates is a man."
"Socrates is a man" has "Socrates" for its subject, but "all
Greeks are men" does not have "all Greeks" for its subject,
for there is nothing about "all Greeks" either in the statement
"there are Greeks," or in the statement "if anything is a Greek it
is a man."

This purely formal error was a source of errors in metaphysics
and theory of knowledge. Consider the state of our knowledge in
regard to the two propositions "Socrates is mortal" and "all men
are mortal." In order to know the truth of "Socrates is mortal,"
most of us are content to rely upon testimony ; but if testimony
is to be reliable, it must lead us back to some one who knew
Socrates and saw him dead. The one perceived fact — the dead
body of Socrates — together with the knowledge that this was
called "Socrates," was enough to assure us of the mortality
of Socrates. But when it comes to "all men are mortal," the
matter is different. The question of our knowledge of such
general propositions is a very difficult one. Sometimes they are
merely verbal: "all Greeks are men" is known because nothing
is called "a Greek" unless it is a man. Such general statements
can be ascertained from the dictionary ; they tell us nothing about
the world except how words are used. But "all men are mortal"
is not of this sort; there is nothing logically self-contradictory
about an immortal man. We believe the proposition on the basis
of induction, because there is no well-authenticated case of a
man living more than (say) 150 years; but this only makes the

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ARISTOTLE'S LOGIC

proposition probable, not certain. It cannot be certain so long as
living men exist.

Metaphysical errors arose through supposing that "all men" is
the subject of "all men are mortal" in the same sense as that in
which "Socrates" is the subject of "Socrates is mortal." It made
it possible to hold that, in some sense, "all men" denotes an entity
of the same sort as that denoted by "Socrates." This led Aristotle
to say that in a sense a species is a substance. He is careful to
qualify this statement, but his followers, especially Porphyry,
showed less caution.

Another error into which Aristotle falls through this mistake
is to think that a predicate of a predicate can be a predicate of
the original subject. If I say "Socrates is Greek, all Greeks are
human," Aristotle thinks that "human" is a predicate of "Greek,"
while "Greek" is a predicate of "Socrates," and obviously "human"
is a predicate of "Socrates." But in fact "human" is not a predicate
of "Greek." The distinction between names and predicates, or
in metaphysical language, between particulars and universals,
is thus blurred, with disastrous consequences to philosophy. One
of the resulting confusions was to suppose that a class with only
one member is identical with that one member. This made it
impossible to have a correct theory of the number one, and led
to endless bad metaphysics about unity.

(2) Over-estimation of tlie syllogism. The syllogism is only one
kind of deductive argument. In mathematics, which is wholly
deductive, syllogisms hardly ever occur. Of course, it would be
possible to re-write mathematical arguments in syllogistic form,
but this would he very artificial and would not make them any
more cogent. Take arithmetic, for example. If I buy goods worth
1 6s. 3d., and tender a £1 note in payment, how much change
is due to me ? To put this simple sum in the form of a syllogism
would be absurd, and would tend to conceal the real nature of
the argument. Again, within logic there are non-syllogistic
inferences such as: "A horse is an animal, therefore a horse's
head is an animal's head." Valid syllogisms, in fact, are only
some among valid deductions, and have no logical priority over
others. The attempt to give pre-eminence to the syllogism in
deduction misled philosophers as to the nature of mathematical
reasoning. Kant, who perceived that mathematics is not syllogistic,
inferred that it uses extra-logical principles, which, however, he

221

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

supposed to be as certain as those of logic. He, like his predecessors,
though in a different way, was misled by respect for Aristotle.

(3) Over -estimation of deduction. The Greeks in general attached
more importance to deduction as a source of knowledge than
modern philosophers do. In this respect, Aristotle was less at
fault than Plato ; he repeatedly admitted the importance of induc-
tion, and he devoted considerable attention to the question : how
do we know the first premisses from which deduction must start ?
Nevertheless, he, like other Greeks, gave undue prominence to
deduction in his theory of knowledge. We shall agree that Mr.
Smith (say) is mortal, and we may, loosely, say that we know this
because we know that all men are mortal. But what we really
know is not "all men are mortal"; we know mther something
like "all men born more than one hundred and fifty years ago are
mortal, and so are almost all men born more than one hundred
years ago." This is our reason for thinking that Mr. Smith will
die. But this argument is an induction, not a deduction. It has
less cogency than a deduction, and yields only a probability, not
a certainty; but on the other hand it gives new knowledge, which
deduction does not. All the important inferences outside logic and
pure mathematics are inductive, not deductive; the only excep-
tions are law and theology, each of which derives its first prin-
ciples from an unquestionable text, viz. the statute hooks 01 the
scriptures.

Apart from The Prior Analytics, which deals with the syllogism
there are other logical writings of Aristotle which have con-
siderable importance in the history of philosophy. One of these
is the short work on The Categories. Porphyry the Neoplatonist
wrote a commentary on this book, which had a very notable
influence on medieval philosophy; but for the present let us
ignore Porphyry and confine ourselves to Aristotle.

What, exactly, is meant by the word "category/* whether in
Aristotle or in Kant and Hegel, I must confess that I have never
been able to understand. I do not myself believe that the term
"category" is in any way useful in philosophy, as representing
any clear idea. There are, in Aristotle, ten categories: substance,
quantity, quality, relation, place, time, position, state, action,
and affection. The only definition offered of the term "category "
is: "expressions which are in no way composite signify" — and
then follows the above list. This seems to mean that every word

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ARISTOTLE'S LOGIC

of which the meaning is not compounded of the meanings of
other words signifies a substance or a quantity or etc. There is
no suggestion of any principle on which the list of ten categories
has been compiled.

"Substance" is primarily what is not predicable of a subject nor
present in a subject. A thing is said to be "present in a subject"
when, though not a part of the subject, it cannot exist without
the subject. The instances given are a piece of grammatical
knowledge which is present in a mind, and a certain whiteness
which may be present in a body. A substance in the above primary
sense is an individual thing or person or animal. But in a secondary
sense a species or a genus — e.g. "man" or "animal" — may be
called a substance. This secondary sense seems indefensible,
and opened the door, in later writers, to much bad metaphysics.

The Posterior Analytics is a work largely concerned with a
question which must trouble any deductive theory, namely: How
are first premisses obtained? Since deduction must start from
somewhere, we must begin with something unproved, which
must be known otherwise than by demonstration. I shall not give
Aristotle's theory in detail, since it depends upon the notion of
essence. A definition, he says, is a statement of a thing's essential
nature. The notion of essence is an intimate part of every philo-
sophy subsequent to Aristotle, until we come to modern times.
It is, in my opinion, a hopelessly muddle-headed notion, but its
historical importance requires us to say something about it.

The "essence" of a thing appears to have meant "those of its
properties which it cannot change without losing its identity."
Socrates may be sometimes happy, sometimes sad; sometimes
well, sometimes ill. Since he can change these properties without
ceasing to be Socrates, they are no part of his essence. But it is
supposed to be of the essence of Socrates that he is a man, though
a Pythagorean, who believes in transmigration, will not admit
this. In fact, the question of "essence" is one as to the use of
words. We apply the same name, on different occasions, to
somewhat different occurrences, which .we regard as manifesta-
tions of a single "thing" or "person." In fact, however, this is
only a verbal convenience. The "essence" of Socrates thus consists
of those properties in the absence of which we should not use the
name "Socrates." The question is purely linguistic: a word may
have an essence, but a thing cannot.

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WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

The conception of "substance," like that of "essence,11 is a
transference to metaphysics of what is only a linguistic convenience.
We find it convenient, in describing the world, to describe a
certain number of occurrences as events in the life of "Socrates,"
and a certain number of others as events in the life of "Mr. Smith."
This leads us to think of "Socrates" or "Mr. Smith" as denoting
something that persists through a certain number of years, and
as in some way more "solid" and "real" than the events that
happen to him. If Socrates is ill, we think that Socrates, at other
times, is well, and therefore the being of Socrates is independent
of his illness; illness, on the other hand, requires somebody to
be ill. But although Socrates need not be ill, something must be
occurring to him if he is to be considered to exist. He is not,
therefore, really any more "solid" than the things that happen
to him.

"Substance," when taken seriously, is a concept impossible to
free from difficulties. A substance is supposed to be the subject
of properties, and to be something distinct from all its properties.
But when we take away the properties, and try to imagine the
substance by itself, we find that there is nothing left. To put the
matter in another way: What distinguishes one substance from
another? Not difference of properties, for, according to the logic
of substance, difference of properties presupposes numerical
diversity between the substances concerned. Two substances,
therefore, must be just two, without being, in themselves, in any
way distinguishable. How, then, are we ever to find out that
they are two ?

"Substance," in fact, is merely a convenient way of collecting
events into bundles. What can we know about Mr. Smith? When
we look at him, we see a pattern of colours ; when we listen to him
talking, we hear a series of sounds. We believe that, like us, he has
thoughts and feelings. But what is Mr. Smith apart from all these
occurrences? A mere imaginary hook, from which the occurrences
are supposed to hang. They have in fact no need of a hook, any
more than the earth needs an elephant to rest upon. Any one
can see, in the analogous case of a geographical region, that such
a word as "France" (say) is only a linguistic convenience, and that
there is not a thing called "France" over and above its various
parts. The same holds of "Mr. Smith"; it is a collective name
for a number of occurrences. If we take it as anything more, it

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ARISTOTLE'S LOGIC

denotes something completely unknowable, and therefore not
needed for the expression of what we know.

"Substance," in a word, is a metaphysical mistake, due to
transference to the world-structure of the structure of sentences
composed of a subject and a predicate.

I conclude that the Aristotelian doctrines with which we have
been concerned in this chapter are wholly false, with the exception
of the formal theory of the syllogism, which is unimportant.
Any person in the present day who wishes to learn logic will be
wasting his time if he reads Aristotle or any of his disciples.
None the less, Aristotle's logical writings show great ability, and
would have been useful to mankind if they had appeared at a
time when intellectual originality was still active. Unfortunately,
they appeared at the very end of the creative period of Greek
thought, and therefore came to be accepted as authoritative.
By the time that logical originality revived, a reign of two thousand
years had made Aristotle very difficult to dethrone. Throughout
modern times, practically every advance in science, in logic, or
in philosophy has had to be made in the teeth of opposition from
Aristotle's disciples.

Chapter XXIII
ARISTOTLE'S PHYSICS

IN tiiis chapter I propose to consider two of Aristotle's books,
the one called Physics and the one called On the Heavens.
These two books are closely connected; the second takes up
the argument at the point at which the first has left it. Both were
extremely influential, and dominated science until the time of
Galileo. Words such as "quintessence" and "sublunary" are
derived from the theories expressed in these books. The historian
of philosophy, accordingly, must study them, in spite of the fact
that hardly a sentence in either can be accepted in the light of
modern science.

To understand the views of Aristotle, as of most Greeks, on
physics, it is necessary to apprehend their imaginative back-
ground. Every philosopher, in addition to the formal system which
he offers to the world, has another, much simpler, of which he
may be quite unaware. If he is aware of it, he probably realizes
that it won't quite do; he therefore conceals it, and sets forth
something more sophisticated, which he believes because it is
like his crude system, but which he asks others to accept because
he thinks he has made it such as cannot be disproved. The
sophistication comes in by way of refutation of refutations, but
this alone will never give a positive result: it shows, at best,
that a theory may be true, not that it must be. The positive result,
however little the philosopher may realize it, is due to his imagina-
tive preconceptions, or to what Santayana calls "animal faith."

In relation to physics, Aristotle's imaginative background was
very different from that of a modern student. Nowadays, a boy
begins with mechanics, which, by its very name, suggests machines.
He is accustomed to motor-cars and aeroplanes; he docs not,
even in the dimmest recesses of his subconscious imagination,
think that a motor-car contains some sort of horse in its inside,
or that an aeroplane flies because its wings are those of a bird
possessing magical powers. Animals have lost their importance
in our imaginative pictures of the world, in which man stands
comparatively alone as master of a mainly lifeless and largely
subservient material environment.

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ARISTOTLE'S PHYSICS

To the Greek, attempting to give a scientific account of motion,
the purely mechanical view hardly suggested itself, except in the
case of a few men of genius such as Democritus and Archimedes.
Two sets of phenomena seemed important: the movements of
animals, and the movements of the heavenly bodies. To the
modern man of science, the body of an animal is a very elaborate
machine, with an enormously complex physico-chemical structure;
every new discovery consists in diminishing the apparent gulf
between animals and machines. To the Greek, it seemed more
natural to assimilate apparently lifeless motions to those of animals.
A child still distinguishes live animals from other things by the
fact that they can move of themselves; to many Greeks, and
especially to Aristotle, this peculiarity suggested itself as the basis
of a general theory of physics.

But how about the heavenly bodies? They differ from animals
by the regularity of their movements, but this may be only due
to their superior perfection. Every Greek philosopher, whatever
he may have come to think in adult life, had been taught in child-
hood to regard the sun and moon as gods; Anaxagoras was
prosecuted for impiety because he thought that they were not
alive. It was natural that a philosopher who could no longer
regard the heavenly bodies themselves as divine should think of
them as moved by the will of a Divine Being who had a Hellenic
love of order and geometrical simplicity. Thus the ultimate
source of all movement is Will: on earth the capricious Will of
human beings and animals, but in heaven the unchanging Will
of the Supreme Artificer.

I do not suggest that this applies to every detail of what Aristotle
has to say. What I do suggest is that it gives his imaginative back-
ground, and represents the sort of thing which, in embarking on
liis investigations, he would expect to find true.

After these preliminaries, let us examine what it is that he
actually says.

Physics, in Aristotle, is the science of what the Greeks called
"phusis" (or Mphysis")t a word which is translated 'nature,"
but has not exactly the meaning which we attach to that word.
We still speak of "natural science" and "natural history," but
"nature" by itself, though it is a very ambiguous word, seldom
means just what "phusis" meant. "Phusis" had to do with growth ;
one might sav it is the "nature" of an acorn to grow into an oak,

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WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

and in that case one would be using the word in the Aristotelian
sense. The "nature" of .a thing, Aristotle says, is its end, that for
the sake of which it exists. Thus the word has a ideological
implication. Some things exist by nature, some from other causes.
Animals, plants, and simple bodies (elements) exist by nature;
they have an internal principle of motion (the word translated
"motion" or "movement" has a wider meaning than "loco-
motion" ; in addition to locomotion it includes change of quality
or of size.) Nature is a source of being moved or at rest. Things
"have a nature" if they have an internal principle of this kind.
The phrase "according to nature" applies to these things and their
essential attributes. (It was through this point of view that
"unnatural" came to express blame.) Nature is in form rather
than in matter; what is potentially flesh or bone has not
yet acquired its own nature, and a thing is more what it is
when it has attained to fulfilment. This whole point of view
seems to be suggested by biology: the acorn is "potentially"
an oak.

Nature belongs to the class of causes which operate for the sake
of something. This leads to a discussion of the view that nature
works of necessity, without purpose, in connection with which
Aristotle discusses the survival of the fittest, in the form taught
by Empedocles. This cannot be right, he says, because things
happen in fixed ways, and when a series has a completion, all
preceding steps are for its sake. Those things are "natural" which
"by a continuous movement, originated from an internal principle,
arrive at some completion" (199*).

This whole conception of "nature," though it might well seem
admirably suited to explain the growth of animals and plants,
became, in the event, a great obstacle to the progress of science,
and a source of much that was bad in ethics. In the latter respect,
it is still harmful.

Motion, we are told, is the fulfilling of what exists potentially.
This view, apart from other defects, is incompatible with the
relativity of locomotion. When A moves relatively to B, B moves
relatively to A, and there is no sense in saying that one of the two
is in motion while the other is at rest. When a dog seizes a bone,
it seems to common sense that the dog moves while the bone
remains at rest (until seized), and that the motion has a purpose,
namely to fulfil the dog's "nature." But it has turned out that this

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ARISTOTLE'S PHYSICS

point of view cannot be applied to dead matter, and that, for the
purposes of scientific physics, no conception of an "end" is useful,
nor can any motion, in scientific strictness, be treated as other
than relative.

Aristotle rejects the void, as maintained by Leucippus and
Democritus. He then passes on to a rather curious discussion of
time. It might, he says, be maintained that time does not exist,
since it is composed of past and future, of which one no longer
exists while the other does not yet exist. This view, however, he
rejects. Time, he says, is motion that admits of numeration. (It is
not clear why he thinks numeration essential.) We may fairly ask,
he continues, whether time could exist without the soul, since there
cannot be anything to count unless there is someone to count,
and time involves numeration. It seems that he thinks of time as
so many hours or days or years. Some things, he adds, are eternal,
in the sense of not being in time ; presumably he is thinking of
such things as numbers.

There always has been motion, and there always will be; for
there cannot be time without motion, and all are agreed that time
is uncreated, except Plato. On this point, Christian followers of
Aristotle were obliged to dissent from him, since the Bible tells
us that the universe had a beginning.

The Physics ends with the argument for an unmoved mover,
which we considered in connection with the Metaphysics. There
is one unmoved mover, which directly causes a circular motion.
Circular motion is the primary kind, and the only kind which
can be continuous and infinite. The first mover has no parts or
magnitude and is at the circumference of the world.

Having reached this conclusion, we pass on to the heavens.

The treatise On tlit Heavens sets forth a pleasant and simple
theory. Things below the moon are subject to generation and
decay; from the moon upwards, everything is ungenerated and
indestnictible.The earth, which is spherical, is at the centre of the
universe. In the sublunary sphere, everything is composed of the
four elements, earth, water, air, and fire; but there is a fifth ele-
ment, of which the heavenly bodies are composed. The natural
movement of the terrestrial elements is rectilinear, but that of the
fifth clement is circular. The heavens are perfectly spherical, and
the upper regions are more divine than the lower. The stars and
planets are not composed of fire, hut of the fifth element; their

229

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

motion is due to that of spheres to which they are attached.
(All this appears in poetical form in Dante's Paradiso.)

The four terrestrial elements are not eternal, but are generated
out of each other — fire is absolutely light, in the sense that its
natural motion is upward ; earth is absolutely heavy. Air is relatively
light, and water is relatively heavy.

This theory provided many difficulties for later ages. Comets,
which were recognized as destructible, had to be assigned to the
sublunary sphere, but in the seventeenth century it was found
that they describe orbits round the sun, and are very seldom as
near as the moon. Since the natural motion of terrestrial bodies
is rectilinear, it was held that a projectile fired horizontally will
move horizontally for a time, and then suddenly begin to fall
vertically. Galileo's discovery that a projectile moves in a parabola
shocked his Aristotelian colleagues. Copernicus, Kepler, and
Galileo had to combat Aristotle as well as the Bible in establishing
the view that the earth is not the centre of the universe, but rotates
once a day and goes round the sun once a year.

To come to a more general matter: Aristotelian physics is in-
compatible with Newton's "First Law of Motion," originally
enunciated by Galileo. This law states that every body, left to
itself, mil, if already in motion, continue to move in a straight
line with uniform velocity. Thus outside causes are required, not
to account for motion, but to account for change of motion, either
in velocity or in direction. Circular motion, which Aristotle
thought "natural" for the heavenly bodies, involves a continual
change in the direction of motion, and therefore requires a force
directed towards the centre of the circle, as in Newton's law of
gravitation.

Finally: The view that the heavenly bodies are eternal and in-
corruptible has had to be abandoned. The sun and stars have long
lives, but do not live for ever. They are born from a nebula, and
in the end they either explode or die of cold. Nothing in the visible
world is exempt from change and decay; the Aristotelian belief
to the contrary, though accepted by medieval Christians, is a
product of the pagan worship of sun and moon and planets.

230

Chapter XXIV
EARLY GREEK MATHEMATICS AND ASTRONOMY

I AM concerned in this chapter with mathematics, not on its
own account, but as it was related to Greek philosophy — a
relation which, especially in Plato, was very close. The pre-
eminence of the Greeks appears more clearly in mathematics and
astronomy than in anything else. What they did in art, in literature,
and in philosophy, may be judged better or worse according to
taste, but what they accomplished in geometry is wholly beyond
question. They derived something from Egypt, and rather less
from Babylonia; but what they obtained from these sources was,
in mathematics, mainly simple rules, and in astronomy records
of observations extended over very long periods. The art of
mathematical demonstration was, almost wholly, Greek in origin.
There are many pleasant stories, probably unhistorical, showing
what practical problems stimulated mathematical investigations.
The earliest and simplest relates to Thales, who, when in Egypt,
was asked by the king to find out the height of a pyramid. He
waited for the time of day when his shadow was as long as he was
tall ; he then measured the shadow of the pyramid, which was of
course equal to its height. It is said that the laws of perspective
were first studied by the geometer Agatharcus, in order to paint
scenery for the plays of Aeschylus. The problem of finding the
distance of a ship at sea, which was said to have been studied by
Thales, was correctly solved at an early stage. One of the great
problems that occupied Greek geometers, that of the duplication
of the cube, originated, we are told, with the priests of a certain
temple, who were informed by the oracle that the god wanted a
statue twice as large as the one they had. At first they thought
simply of doubling all the dimensions of the statue, but then they
realized that the result would be eight times as large as the ori-
ginal, which would involve more expense than the god had
demanded. So they sent a deputation to Plato to ask whether any-
body in the Academy could solve their problem. The geometers
took it up, and worked at it for centuries, producing, incidentally,
much admirable work. The problem is, of course, that of deter-
mining the cube root of a.

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

The square root of 2, which was the first irrational to be dis-
covered, was known to the early Pythagoreans, and ingenious
methods of approximating to its value were discovered. The best
was as follows: Form two columns of numbers, which we will
call the <z's and the 6's; each starts with i. The next a, at each
stage, is formed by adding the last a and b already obtained ; the
next b is formed by adding twice the previous a to the previous b.
The first 6 pairs so obtained are (i ,i), (2, 3), (5, 7), (12, 17), (29, 41),

(70, 99). In each pair, 20* — - 6a is i or — i. Thus - is nearly the

square root of two, and at each fresh step it gets nearer. For
instance, the reader may satisfy himself that the square of 99/70
is very nearly equal to 2.

Pythagoras — always a rather misty figure — is described by
Proclus as the first who made geometry a liberal education. Many
authorities, including Sir Thomas Heath,1 believe that he probably
discovered the theorem that bears his name, to the effect that, in
a right-angled triangle, the square on the side opposite the right
angle is equal to the sum of the squares on the other two sides.
In any case, this theorem was known to the Pythagoreans at a
very early date. They knew also that the sum of the angles of a
triangle is two right angles.

Irrationals other than the square root of two were studied, in
particular cases, by Theodorus, a contemporary of Socrates, and
in a more general way by Theaetetus, who was roughly contem-
porary with Plato, but somewhat older. Democritus wrote a
treatise on irrationals, but very little is known as to its contents.
Plato was profoundly interested in the subject; he mentions the
work of Thcodorus and Theaetetus in the dialogue called after
the latter. In the Laws (819-820), he says that the general ignorance
on this subject is disgraceful, and implies .that he himself began
to know about it rather late in life. It had of course an important
bearing on the Pythagorean philosophy.

One of the most important consequences of the discovery of
irrationals was the invention of the geometrical theory of propor-
tion by Eudoxus (ca. 408 — ca. 355 B.C.). Before him, there was
only the arithmetical theory of proportion. According to this
theory*, the ratio of a to b is equal to the ratio of c to d if a times d

' (jreek Mathtmatia, Vol. I, p. 145

23*

FARI'Y GREEK MATHEMATICS AND ASTRONOMY

is equal to b times c. This definition, in the absence of an arith-
metical theory of irrationals, is only applicable to rationals.
Eudoxus, however, gave a new definition not subject to this
restriction, framed in a manner which suggests the methods of
modern analysis. The theory is developed in Euclid, and has
great logical beauty.

Eudoxus also either invented or perfected the "method of ex-
haustion," which was subsequently used with great success by
Archimedes. This method is an anticipation of the integral cal-
culus. Take, for example, the question of the area of a circle. You
can inscribe in a circle a regular hexagon, or a regular dodecagon,
or a regular polygon of a thousand or a million sides. The area
of such a polygon, however many sides it has, is proportional to
the square on the diameter of the circle. The more sides the
polygon has, the more nearly it becomes equal to the circle. You
can prove that, if you give the polygon enough sides, its area can
be got to differ from that of the circle by less than any previously
assigned area, however small. For this purpose, the "axiom of
Archimedes" is used. This states (when somewhat simplified)
that if the greater of two quantities is halved, and then the half
is halved, and so on, a quantity will be reached, at last, which is
less than the smaller of the original two quantities. In other words,
if a is greater than A, there is some whole number n such that 2n
times b is greater than a.

The method of exhaustion sometimes leads to an exact result,
as in squaring the parabola, which was done by Archimedes ; some-
times, as in the attempt to square the circle, it can only lead to
successive approximations. The problem of squaring the circle is
the problem of determining the ratio of the circumference of a
circle to the diameter, which is called 77. Archimedes used the
approximation *f in calculations ; by inscribing and circumscribing
a regular polygon of 96 sides, he proved that TT is less than 3^ and
greater than 3^ J. The method could be carried to any required
degree of approximation, and that is all that any method can do
in this problem. The use of inscribed and circumscribed polygons
for approximations to n goes back to Antiphon, who was a
contemporary of Socrates.

Euclid, who was still, when I was young, the sole acknowledged
text-book of geometry for boys, lived at Alexandria, about 300 B.C.,
a few years after the death of Alexander and Aristotle. Most of

233

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

his Elements was not original, but the order of propositions, and
the logical structure, were largely his. The more one studies geo-
metry, the more admirable these are seen to be. The treatment of
parallels by means of the famous postulate of parallels has the
twofold merit of rigour in deduction and of not concealing the
dubiousness of the initial assumption. The theory of proportion,
which follows Eudoxus, avoids all the difficulties connected with
irrationals, by methods essentially similar to those introduced by
Weierstrass into nineteenth-century analysis. Euclid then passes
on to a kind of geometrical algebra, and deals, in Book X, with the
subject of irrationals. After this he proceeds to solid geometry,
ending with the construction of the regular solids, which had
been perfected by Theaetetus and assumed in Plato's Timaeus.

Euclid's Elements is certainly one of the greatest books ever
written, and one of the most perfect monuments of the Greek
intellect. It has, of course, the typical Greek limitations: the
method is purely deductive, and there is no way, within it, of
testing the initial assumptions. These assumptions were supposed
to be unquestionable, but in the nineteenth century non-Euclidean
geometry showed that they might be in part mistaken, and that
only observation could decide whether they were so.

There is in Euclid the contempt for practical utility which had
been inculcated by Plato. It is said that a pupil, after listening to
a demonstration, asked what he would gain by learning geometry,
whereupon Euclid called a slave and said "Give the young man
threepence, since he must needs make a gain out of what he
learns." The contempt for practice was, however, pragmatically
justified. No one, in Greek times, supposed that conic sections
had any utility; at last, in the seventeenth century, Galileo dis-
covered that projectiles move in parabolas, and Kepler discovered
that planets move in ellipses. Suddenly the work that the Greeks
had done from pure love of theory became the key to warfare and
astronomy.

The Romans were too practical-minded to appreciate Euclid;
the first of them to mention him is Cicero, in whose time there was
probably no Latin translation ; indeed there is no record of any
Latin translation before Boethius (ca. A.D. 480). The Arabs were
more appreciative : a copy was given to the caliph by the Byzantine
emperor about A.D. 760, and a translation into Arabic was made
under Harun al Rashid, about A.D. 800. The first still extant

234

EARLY GREEK MATHEMATICS AND ASTRONOMY

Latin translation was made from the Arabic by Adelard of
Bath in A.D. 1120. From that time on, the study of geometry
gradually revived in the West; but it was not until the late Re-
naissance that important advances were made.

I come now to astronomy, where Greek achievements were as
remarkable as in geometry. Before their time, among the Baby-
lonians and Egyptians, many centuries of observation had laid a
foundation. The apparent motions of the planets had been re-
corded, but it was not known that the morning and evening star
were the same. A cycle of eclipses had been discovered, certainly
in Babylonia and probably in Egypt, which made the prediction
of lunar eclipses fairly reliable, but not of solar eclipses, since
those were not always visible at a given spot. We owe to the
Babylonians the division of the right angle into ninety degrees,
and of the degree into sixty minutes; they had a liking for the
number sixty, and even a system of numeration based upon it.
The Greeks were fond of attributing the wisdom of their pioneers
to travels in Egypt, but what had really been achieved before the
Greeks was very little. The prediction of an eclipse by Thales
was, however, an example of foreign influence; there is no reason
to suppose that he added anything to what he learnt from Egyptian
or Babylonian sources, and it was a stroke of luck that his prediction
was verified.

Let us begin with some of the earliest discoveries and correct
hypotheses. Ariaximander thought that the earth floats freely, and
is not supported on anything. Aristotle,1 who often rejected the
hcst hypotheses of his time, objected to the theory of Anaxi-
inander, that the earth, being at the centre, remained immovable
because there was no reason for moving in one direction rather
than another. If this were valid, he said, a man placed at the
centre of a circle with food at various points of the circumference
would starve to death for lack of reason to choose one portion of
food rather than another. This argument reappears in scholastic
philosophy, not in connection with astronomy, but with free will.
It reappears in the form of "Buridan's ass," which was unable to
choose between two bundles of hay placed at equal distances to
right and left, and therefore died of hunger.

Pythagoras, in all probability, was the first to think the earth
spherical, but his reasons were (one must suppose) aesthetic

1 De Cacto, 295*-

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

rather than scientific. Scientific reasons, however, were soon found.
Anaxagoras discovered that the moon shines by reflected light,
and gave the right theory of eclipses. He himself still thought the
earth flat, but the shape of the earth's shadow in lunar eclipses
gave the Pythagoreans conclusive arguments in favour of its being
spherical. They went further, and regarded the earth as one of the
planets. They knew — from Pythagoras himself, it is said — that
the morning star and the evening star are identical, and they
thought that ail the planets, including the earth, move in circles,
not round the sun, but round the "central fire." They had dis-
covered that the moon always turns the same face to the earth,
and they thought that the earth always turns the same face to the
"central fire." The Mediterranean regions were on the side turned
away from the central fire, which was therefore always invisible.
The central fire was called "the house of Zeus," or "the Mother
of the gods." The sun was supposed to shine by light reflected
from the central fire. In addition to the earth, there was another
body, the counter-earth, at the same distance from the central
fire. For this, they had two reasons, one scientific, one derived
from their arithmetical mysticism. The scientific reason was the
correct observation that an eclipse of the moon sometimes occurs
when both sun and moon are above the horizon. Refraction,
which is the cause of this phenomenon, was unknown to them,
and they thought that, in such cases, the eclipse must be due to
the shadow of a body other than the earth. The other reason was
that the sun and moon, the five planets, the earth and counter-
earth, and the central fire, made ten heavenly bodies, and ten was
the mystic number of the Pythagoreans.

This Pythagorean theory is attributed to Philolatis, a Theban,
who lived at the end of the fifth century B.C. Although it is fanciful
and in part quite unscientific, it is very important, since it involves
the greater part of the imaginative effort required for conceiving
the Copernican hypothesis. To conceive of the earth, not as the
centre of the universe, but as one among the planets, not as
eternally fixed, but as wandering through space, showed an extra-
ordinary emancipation from anthropoctntric thinking. When once
this jolt had been given to men's natural picture of the universe,
it was not so very difficult to be led by scientific arguments to a
more accurate theory.
To this various observations contributed. Oenopidcs, who was

EARLY GREEK MATHEMATICS AND ASTRONOMY

slightly later than Anaxagoras, discovered the obliquity of the
ecliptic. It soon became clear that the sun must be much larger
than the earth, which fact supported those who denied that the
earth is the centre of the universe. The central fire and the counter-
earth were dropped by the Pythagoreans soon after the time of
Plato. Heraclides of Pontus (whose dates are about 388 to 315 B.C.,
contemporary with Aristotle) discovered that Venus and Mercury
revolve about the sun, and adopted the view that the earth rotates
on its own axis once every twenty-four hours. This last was a
very important step, which no predecessor had taken. Heraclides
was of Plato's school, and must have been a great man, but was
not as much respected as one would expect ; he is described as a
fat dandy.

Aristarchus of Samos, who lived approximately from 310 to
230 B.C., and was thus about twenty-five years older than Archi-
medes, is the most interesting of all ancient astronomers, because
he advanced the complete Copernican hypothesis, that all the
planets, including the earth, revolve in circles round the sun, and
that the earth rotates on its axis once in twenty-four hours. It is
a little disappointing to find that the only extant work of Aristar-
chus, On the Sizes and Distances of the Sun and the Moon, adheres
to the geocentric view. It is true that, for the problems with which
this book deals, it makes no difference which theory is adopted,
and he may therefore have thought it unwise to burden his cal-
culations with an unnecessary opposition to the general opinion
of astronomers ; or he may have only arrived at the Copernican
hypothesis after writing this book. Sir Thomas Heath, in his
work on Aristarchus,1 which contains the text of this book with
a translation, inclines to the latter view. The evidence that
Aristarchus suggested the Copernican view is, in any case, quite
conclusive.

The first and best evidence is that of Archimedes, who, as we
have seen, was a younger contemporary of Aristarchus. Writing
to Gelon, King of Syracuse, he says that Aristarchus brought out
"a book consisting of certain hypotheses," and continues: "His
hypotheses are that the fixed stars and the sun remain unmoved,
that the earth revolves about the sun in the circumference of a
circle, the sun lying in the middle of the orbit." There is a

1 Aristurchut of Samos, the Ancient Copernicus. By Sir Thomas Heath.
Oxford, 1913. What follows is bused on this book.

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

passage in Plutarch saying that Cleanthes "thought it was the
duty of the Greeks to indict Aristarchus of Samos on the charge
of impiety for putting in motion the Hearth of the Universe (i.e.
the earth), this being the effect of his attempt to save the pheno-
mena by supposing the heaven to remain at rest and the earth to
revolve in an oblique circle, while it rotates, at the same time,
about its own axis." Cleanthes was a contemporary of Aristarchus,
and died about 232 B.C. In another passage, Plutarch says that
Aristarchus advanced this view only as a hypothesis, but that
his successor Seleucus maintained it as a definite opinion. (Seleucus
flourished about 250 B.C.). Aetius and Sextus Empiricus also assert
that Aristarchus advanced the heliocentric hypothesis, but do not
say that it was set forth by him only as a hypothesis. Even if he
did so, it seems not unlikely that he, like Galileo two thousand
years later, was influenced by the fear of offending religious pre-
judices, a fear which the attitude of Cleanthes (mentioned above)
shows to have been well grounded.

The Copernican hypothesis, after being advanced, whether posi-
tively or tentatively, by Aristarchus, was definitely adopted by
Seleucus, but by no other ancient astronomer. This general
rejection was mainly due to Hip parch us, who flourished from 161
to 126 B.C. He is described by Heath as "the greatest astronomer
of antiquity."1 He was the first to write systematically on trigono-
metry ; he discovered the precession of the equinoxes ; he estimated
the length of the lunar month with an error of less than one
second; he improved Aristarchus's estimates of the sizes and
distances of the sun and moon; he made a catalogue of eight
hundred and fifty fixed stars, giving their latitude and longitude.
As against the heliocentric hypothesis of Aristarchus, he adopted
and improved the theory of epicycles which had been invented by
Apollonius, who flourished about 220 B.C. ; it was a development
of this theory that came to be known, later, as the Ptolemaic
system, after the astronomer Ptolemy, who flourished in the middle
of the second century A.D.

Copernicus perhaps came to know something, though not
much, of the almost forgotten hypothesis of Aristarchus, and was
encouraged by finding ancient authority for his innovation. Other-
wise, the effect of this hypothesis on subsequent astronomy was
practically nil.

1 Greek Mathematics, Vol. II, p. 253.

EARLY GREEK MATHEMATICS AND ASTRONOMY

Ancient astronomers, in estimating the sizes of the earth, moon,
and sun, and the distances of the moon and sun, used methods
which were theoretically valid, but they were hampered by the
lack of instruments of precision. Many of their results, in view
of this lack, were surprisingly good. Eratosthenes estimated the
earth's diameter at 7,850 miles, which is only about fifty miles
short of the truth. Ptolemy estimated the mean distance of the
moon at 29 J times the earth's diameter; the correct figure is
about 30.2. None of them got anywhere near the size and distance
of the sun, which all under-estimated. Their estimates, in terms
of the earth's diameter, were:

Aristarchus, 180;

Hipparchus, 1,245;

Posidonius, 6,545.

The correct figure is 1 1 ,726. It will be seen that these estimates
continually improved (that of Ptolemy, however, showed a retro-
gression) ; that of Posidonius1 is about half the correct figure. On
the whole, their picture of the solar system was not so very far
from the truth.

Creek astronomy was geometrical, not dynamic. The ancients
thought of the motions of the heavenly bodies as uniform and
circular, or compounded of circular motions. They had not the
conception of force. There were spheres which moved as a whole,
and on which the various heavenly bodies were fixed. With Newton
and gravitation a new point of view, less geometrical, was intro-
duced. It is curious to observe that there is a reversion to the
geometrical point of view in Einstein's General Theory of
Relativity, from which the conception of force, in the Newtonian
sense, has been banished.

The problem for the astronomer is this: given the apparent
motions of the heavenly bodies on the celestial sphere, to introduce,
by hypothesis, a third co-ordinate, depth, in such a way as to
make the description of the phenomena as simple as possible.
The merit of the Coperntcan hypothesis is not truth, but simplicity;
in view of the relativity of motion, no question of truth is involved.
The Greeks, in their search for hypotheses which would "save
the phenomena," were in effect, though not altogether in intention,
tackling the problem in the scientifically correct way. A com-

1 Posidonius was Cicero's teacher. He flourished in the latter half of
the second century u.c

239

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

parison with their predecessors, and with their successors until
Copernicus, must convince every student of their truly astonishing
genius.

Two very great men, Archimedes and Apollonius, in the third
century B.C., complete the list of first-class Greek mathematicians.
Archimedes was a friend, probably a cousin, of the king of
Syracuse, and was killed when that city was captured by the
Romans in 212 B.C. Apollonius, from his youth, lived at Alexandria.
Archimedes was not only a mathematician, but also a physicist
and student of hydrostatics. Apollonius is chiefly noted for his
work on conic sections. I shall say no more about them, as they
came too late to influence philosophy.

After these two men, though respectable work continued to be
done in Alexandria, the great age was ended. Under the Roman
domination, the Greeks lost the self-confidence that belongs to
political liberty, and in losing it acquired a paralysing respect for
their predecessors. The Roman soldier who killed Archimedes
was a symbol of the death of original thought that Rome caused
throughout the Hellenic world.

040

Part 3. — Ancient Philosophy after Aristotle

Chapter XXV
THE HELLENISTIC WORLD

^ I WE history of the Greek-speaking world in antiquity may

I be divided into three periods: that of the free City States,

JL which was brought to an end by Philip and Alexander;

that of the Macedonian domination, of which the last remnant

was extinguished by the Roman annexation of Egypt after the

death of Cleopatra; and finally that of the Roman Empire. Of

these three periods, the first is characterized by freedom and

disorder, and second by subjection and disorder, the third by

subjection and order.

The second of these periods is known as the Hellenistic age.
In science and mathematics, the work done during this period is
the best ever achieved by the Greeks. In philosophy, it includes
the foundation of the Epicurean and Stoic schools, and also of
scepticism as a definitely formulated doctrine; it is therefore still
important philosophically, though less so than the period of Plato
and Aristotle. After the third century B.C., there is nothing really
new in Greek philosophy until the Neoplatonists in the third
century A.D. But meanwhile the Roman world was being prepared
for the victory of Christianity.

The brief career of Alexander suddenly transformed the Greek
world. In the ten years from 334 to 324 B.C., he conquered Asia
Minor, Syria, Egypt, Babylonia, Persia, Samarcand, Bactria, and
the Punjab. The Persian Empire, the greatest that the world had
known, was destroyed by three battles. The ancient lore of the
Babylonians, along with their ancient superstitions, became
familiar to Greek curiosity; so did the Zoroastrian dualism and
(in a lesser degree) die religions of India, where Buddhism was
moving towards supremacy. Wherever Alexander penetrated, even
in the mountains of Afghanistan, on the banks of the Jaxattes,
and on the tributaries of the Indus, he founded Greek cities, in
which he tried to reproduce Greek institutions, with a measure

241

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

of self-government. Although his army was composed mainly of
Macedonians, and although most European Greeks submitted to
him unwillingly, he considered himself, at first, as the apostle of
Hellenism. Gradually, however, as his conquests extended, he
adopted the policy of promoting a friendly fusion between Greek
and barbarian.

For this he had various motives. On the one hand, it was obvious
that his armies, which were not very large, could not permanently
hold so vast an empire by force, but must, in the long run, depend
upon conciliation of the conquered populations. On the other
hand, the East was unaccustomed to any form of government
except that of a divine king, a role which Alexander felt himself
well fitted to perform. Whether he believed himself a god, or
only took on the attributes of divinity from motives of policy, is
a question for the psychologist, since the historical evidence is
indecisive. In any case, he clearly enjoyed the adulation which
he received in Egypt as successor of the Pharaohs, and in Persia
as the Great King. His Macedonian captains — the "Companions,"
as they were called — had towards him the attitude of western
nobles to their constitutional sovereign : they refused to prostrate
themselves before him, they gave advice and criticism even at the
risk of their lives, and at a crucial moment they controlled his
actions, when they compelled him to turn homewards from the
Indus instead of marching on to the conquest of the Ganges.
Orientals were more accommodating, provided their religious
prejudices were respected. This offered no difficulty to Alexander;
it was only necessary to identify Ammon or Bel with Zeus, and
to declare himself the son of the god. Psychologists observe that
Alexander hated Philip, and was probably privy to his murder;
he would have liked to believe that his mother Olympias, like
some lady of Greek mythology, had been beloved of a god.
Alexander's career was so miraculous that he may well have
thought a miraculous origin the best explanation of his prodigious
success.

The Greeks had a very strong feeling of superiority to the bar*
barians; Aristotle no doubt expresses the general view when he
says that northern races are spirited, southern races civilized, but
the Greeks alone are both spirited and civilized. Plato and Aris-
totle thought it wrong to make slaves of Greeks, but not of bar-
barians. Alexander, who was not quite a Greek, tried to break

242

THE HELLENISTIC WORLD

down this attitude of superiority. He himself married two barbarian
princesses, and he compelled his leading Macedonians to marry
Persian women of noble birth. His innumerable Greek cities, one
would suppose, must have contained many more male than female
colonists, and their men must therefore have followed his example
in intermarrying with the women of the locality. The result of
this policy was to bring into the minds of thoughtful men the
conception of mankind as a whole; the old loyalty to the City
State and (in a lesser degree) to the Greek race seemed no longer
adequate. In philosophy, this cosmopolitan point of view begins
with the Stoics, but in practice it begins earlier, with Alexander.
It had the result that the interaction of Greek and barbarian was
reciprocal: the barbarians learnt something of Greek science,
while the Greeks learnt much of barbarian superstition. Greek
civilization, in covering a wider area, became less purely Greek.

Greek civilization was essentially urban. There were, of course,
many Greeks engaged in agriculture, but they contributed little
to what was distinctive in Hellenic culture. From the Milesian
school onwards, the Greeks who were eminent in science and
philosophy and literature were associated with rich commercial
cities, often surrounded by barbarian populations. This type of
civilization was inaugurated, not by the Greeks, but by the Phoe-
nicians; Tyre and Sidon and Carthage depended on slaves for
manual labour at home, and on hired mercenaries in the conduct
of their wars. They did not depend, as modern capital cities do,
upon large rural populations of the same blood and with equal
political rights. The nearest modern analogue is to be seen in the
Far East during the latter half of the nineteenth century. Singapore
and Hong Kong, Shanghai and the other treaty ports of China,
were little European islands, where the white men formed a com-
mercial aristocracy living on coolie labour. In North America,
north of the Mason- Dixon line, since such labour was not available,
white men were compelled to practise agriculture. For this reason,
the hold of the white man on North America is secure, while his
hold on the Far East has already been greatly diminished, and
may easily cease altogether. Much of his type of culture, especially
industrialism, will, however, survive. This analogue will help us
to understand the position of the Greeks in the
Alexander's empire.

The effect of Alexander on the imagination

241

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

and lasting. The First Book of the Maccabees, written centuries
after his death, opens with an account of his career:

"And it happened, after that Alexander, son of Philip, the Mace-
donian, who came out of the land of Chettiim, had smitten Darius,
king of the Persians and Medes, that he reigned in his stead, the
first over Greece, and made many wars, and won many strong
holds, and slew the kings of the earth, and went through to the
ends of the earth, and took spoil of many nations, insomuch that
the earth was quiet before him; whereupon he was exalted, and
his heart was lifted up. And he gathered a mighty strong host, and
ruled over countries, and nations, and kings, who became tri-
butaries unto him. And after these things he fell sick, and per-
ceived that he should die. Wherefore he called his servants, such
as were honorable, and had been brought up with him from his
youth, and parted his kingdom among them, while he was yet
alive.1 So Alexander reigned twelve years, and then died/1

He survived as a legendary hero in the Mohammedan religion,
and to this day petty chieftains in the Himalayas claim to be
descended from him.1 No other hilly historical hero has ever
furnished such a perfect opportunity for the mythopoeic faculty.

At Alexander's death, there was an attempt to preserve the
unit}' of his empire. But of his two sons, one was an infant and
the other was not yet born. Each had supporters, but in the
resultant civil war both were thrust aside. In the end, his empire
was divided between the families of three generals, of whom,
roughly speaking, one obtained the European, one the African,
and one the Asiatic parts of Alexander's possessions. The European
part fell ultimately to Antigonus's descendants; Ptolemy, who
obtained Egypt, made Alexandria his capital; Seleucus, who
obtained Asia after many wars, was too busy with campaigns to
have a fixed capital, but in later times Antioch was the chief city
of his dynasty.

Both the Ptolemies and the Seleucids (as the dynasty of Seleu-
cus was called) abandoned Alexander's attempts to produce a
fusion of Greek and barbarian, and established military tyrannies
based, at first, upon their part of the Macedonian army streng-
thened with Greek mercenaries. The Ptolemies held Egypt fairly

1 7%his is not historically true.

* Perhaps this is no longer true, as the sons of thobc who held thia belief
have been educated at Eton.

244

THE HELLENISTIC WORLD

securely, but in Asia two centuries of confused dynastic wars were
only ended by the Roman conquest. During these centuries,
Persia was conquered by the Parthians, and the Bactrian Greeks
were increasingly isolated.

In the second century B.C. (after which they rapidly declined)
they had a king, Menander, whose Indian Empire was very
extensive. A couple of dialogues between him and a Buddhist sage
have survived in Pali, and, in part, in a Chinese translation. Dr.
Tarn suggests that the first of these is based on a Greek original;
the second, which ends with Menander abdicating and becoming
a Buddhist saint, is certainly not.

Buddhism, at this time, was a vigorous proselytizing religion.
Asoka (264-228), the saintly Buddhist king, records, in a still extant
inscription, that he sent missionaries to all the Macedonian kings:
"And this is the cliicfcst conquest in His Majesty's opinion — the
conquest by the Law; this also is that effected by His Majesty both
in his own dominions and in all the neighbouring realms as far
as six hundred leagues —even to where the Greek king Antiochus
dwells, and beyond that Antiochus to where dwell the four kings
severally named Ptolemy, Antigonus, Magas, and Alexander . . ,
and likewise here, in the king's dominions, among the Yonas"1
(i.e. the Greeks of the Punjab). Unfortunately no western account
of these missionaries has survived.

Babylonia was much more profoundly influenced by Hellenism.
As we have seen, the only ancient who followed Aristarchus of
Sarnos in maintaining the Copernican system was Seleucus of
Sdeucia on the Tigris, who flourished about 150 B.C. Tacitus
tells us that in the first century A.D. Seleucia had not "lapsed into
the barbarous usages of the Parthians, but still retained the insti-
tutions of Seleucus,8 its Greek founder. Three hundred citizens,
chosen for their wealth or wisdom, compose as it were a Senate;
the {x>pulace too have their share of power."3 Throughout Meso-
potamia, as further West, Greek became the language of literature
and culture, and remained so until the Mohammedan conquest.

Syria (excluding Judea) became completely Hellenized in the
cities, in so far as language and literature were concerned. But the
rural populations, which were more conservative, retained the

1 Quoted in Be van, Housf of ScletAtvs, Vol. I, p. 29811.
* The king, not die astronomer.
Book VI, chap. 42.

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

religions and the languages to which they were accustomed.1 In
Asia Minor, the Greek cities of the coast had, for centuries, had
an influence on their barbarian neighbours. This was intensified
by the Macedonian conquest. The first conflict of Hellenism with
the Jews is related in the Books of the Maccabees. It is a profoundly
interesting story, unlike anything else in the Macedonian Empire.
I shall deal with it at a later stage, when I come to the origin and
growth of Christianity. Elsewhere, Greek influence encountered
no such stubborn opposition.

From the point of view of Hellenistic culture, the most brilliant
success of the third century B.C. was the city of Alexandria. Egypt
was less exposed to war than the European and Asiatic parts of
the Macedonian domain, and Alexandria was in an extraordinarily
favoured position for commerce. The Ptolemies were patrons of
learning, and attracted to their capital many of the best men of
the age. Mathematics became, and remained until the fall of Rome,
mainly Alexandrian. Archimedes, it is true, was a Sicilian, and
belonged to the one part of the world where the Greek City
States (until the moment of his death in 212 B.C.) retained their
independence ; but he too had studied in Alexandria. Eratosthenes
was chief librarian of the famous library of Alexandria. The
mathematicians and men of science connected, more or less closely,
with Alexandria in the third century before Christ were as able
as any of the Greeks of the previous centuries, and did work of
equal importance. But they were not, like their predecessors, men
who took all learning for their province, and propounded universal
philosophies; they were specialists in the modern sense. Euclid,
Aristarchus, Archimedes, and Apollonius, were content to be
mathematicians ; in philosophy they did not aspire to originality.

Specialization characterized the age in all departments, not only
in the world of learning. In the self-governing Greek cities of the
fifth and fourth centuries, a capable man was assumed to be capable
of everything. He would be, as occasion arose, a soldier, a politician,
a lawgiver, or a philosopher. Socrates, though he disliked politics,
could not avoid being mixed up with political disputes. In his
youth he was a soldier, and (in spite of his disclaimer in the
Apology) a student of physical science. Protagoras, when he could
spare time from teaching scepticism to aristocratic youths in search
of the latest thing, was drawing up a code of laws for Thurii.
1 See Cambridge Ancient History* VoL V1J, pp. 194-5.

246

THE HELLENISTIC WORLD

Plato dabbled in politics, though unsuccessfully. Xenophon,
when he was neither writing about Socrates nor being a country
gentleman, spent his spare time as a general. Pythagorean mathe-
maticians attempted to acquire the government of cities. Every-
body had to serve on juries and perform various other public
duties. In the third century all this was changed. There continued,
it is true, to be politics in the old City States, but they had become
parochial and unimportant, since Greece was at the mercy of
Macedonian aimies. The serious struggles for power were between
Macedonian soldiers ; they involved no question of principle, but
merely the distribution of territory between rival adventurers. On
administrative and technical matters, these more or less unedu-
cated soldiers employed Greeks as experts; in Egypt, for example,
excellent work was done in irrigation and drainage. There were
soldiers, administrators, physicians, mathematicians, philosophers,
but there was no one who was all these at once.

The age was one in which a man who had money and no desire
for power could enjoy a very pleasant life — always assuming that
no marauding army happened to come his way. Learned men who
found favour with some prince could enjoy a high degree of luxury,
provided they were adroit flatterers and did not mind being the
butt of ignorant royal witticisms. But there was no such thing as
security. A palace revolution might displace the sycophantic
sage's patron; the Galatians might destroy the rich man's villa;
one's city might be sacked as an incident in a dynastic war. In
such circumstances it is no wonder that people took to worshipping
the goddess Fortune, or Luck. There seemed nothing rational in
the ordering of human affairs. Those who obstinately insisted
upon finding rationality somewhere withdrew into themselves,
and decided, like Milton's Satan, that

The mind is its own place, and in itself
Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.

Except for adventurous self-seekers, there was no longer any
incentive to take an interest in public affairs. After the brilliant
episode of Alexander's conquests, the Hellenistic world was
sinking into chaos, for lack of a despot strong enough to achieve
stable supremacy, or a principle powerful enough to produce
social cohesion. Greek intelligence, confronted with new political
problems, showed complete incompetence. The Romans, no

247

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

doubt, were stupid and brutal compared to the Greeks, but at
least they created order. The old disorder of the days of freedom
had been tolerable, because every citizen had a share in it; but
the new Macedonian disorder, imposed upon subjects by incom-
petent rulers, was utterly intolerable — far more so than the subse-
quent subjection to Rome.

There was widespread social discontent and fear of revolution.
The wages of free labour fell, presumably owing to the competition
of eastern slave labour; and meantime the prices of necessaries
rose. One finds Alexander, at the outset of his enterprise, having
time to make treaties designed to keep the poor in their place.
"In the treaties made in 335 between Alexander and the States
of the League of Corinth it was provided that the Council of the
League and Alexander's representative were to see to it that in
no city of the League should there be either confiscation of per-
sonal property, or division of land, or cancellation of debt, or
liberation of slaves for the purpose of revolution."1 The temples,
in the Hellenistic world, were the bankers; they owned the gold
reserve, and controlled credit. In the early third century, the
temple of Apollo at Delos made loans at ten per cent ; formerly,
the rate of interest had been higher.2

Free labourers who found wages insufficient even for bare
necessities must, if young and vigorous, have been able to obtain
employment as mercenaries. The life of a mercenary, no doubt,
was filled with hardships and dangers, but it also had great possi-
bilities. There might be the loot of some rich eastern city ; there
might be a chance of lucrative mutiny. It must have been dangerous
for a commander to attempt to disband his army, and this must
have been one of the reasons why wars were almost continuous.

The old civic spirit more or less survived in the old Greek
cities, but not in the new cities founded by Alexander — not ex-
cepting Alexandria. In earlier times, a new city was always a
colony composed of emigrants from some one older city, and it
remained connected with its parent by a bond of sentiment. This
kind of sentiment had great longevity, as is shown, for example,
by the diplomatic activities of Lampsacus on the Hellespont in

1 "The Social Question in the Third Century," by W W. Tarn, in 7Vi«
Hellenistic Age by various authors. Cambridge, 1923. This essay is exceed*
ingly interesting, and contains many facts nor elsewhere readily accessible.

' Ibid.

THE HELLENISTIC WORLD

the year 196 B.C. This city was threatened with subjugation by the
Seleucid King Antiochus III, and decided to appeal to Rome for
protection. An embassy was sent, but it did not go direct to Rome ;
it went first, in spite of the immense distance, to Marseilles, which,
like Lampsacus, was a colony of Phocaea, and was, moreover,
viewed with friendly eyes by the Romans. The citizens of Mar-
seilles, having listened to an oration by the envoy, at once decided
to send a diplomatic mission of their own to Rome to support
their sister city. The Gauls who lived inland from Marseilles
joined in with a letter to their kinsmen of Asia Minor, the
Galatians, recommending Lampsacus to their friendship. Rome,
naturally, was glad of a pretext for meddling in the affairs of Asia
Minor, and by Rome's intervention Lampsacus preserved its
freedom — until it became inconvenient to the Romans.1

In general, the rulers of Asia called themselves "Phil-Hellene,"
and befriended the old Greek cities as far as policy and military
necessity allowed. The cities desired, and (when they could)
claimed as a right, democratic self-government, absence of tribute,
and freedom from a royal garrison. It was worth while to conciliate
them, because they were rich, they could supply mercenaries, and
many of them had important harbours. But if they took the wrong
side in a civil war, they exposed themselves to sheer conquest.
On the whole, the Seleucids, and the other dynasties which
gradually grew up, dealt tolerably with them, but there were
exceptions.

The new cities, though they had a measure of self-government,
had not the same traditions as the older ones. Their citizens were
not of homogeneous origin, but were from all parts of Greece.
They were in the main adventurers like the conquistadors or the
settlers in Johannesburg, not pious pilgrims like the earlier Greek
colonists or the New England pioneers. Consequently no one of
Alexander's cities formed a strong political unit. This was con-
venient from the standpoint of the king's government, but a
weakness from the standpoint of the spread of Hellenism.

The influence of non-Greek religion and superstition in the
Hellenistic world was mainly, but not wholly, bad. This might
not have been the case. Jews, Persians, and Buddhists all had
religions that were very definitely superior to the popular Greek
polytheism, and could even have been studied with profit by the
1 Heyan, House of Seleucut, Vol. II, pp. 45-0.

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

best philosophers. Unfortunately it was the Babylonians, or
Chaldeans, who most impressed the imagination of the Greeks.
There was, first of all, their fabulous antiquity ; the priestly records
went back for thousands of years, and professed to go back for
thousands more. Then there was some genuine wisdom: the
Babylonians could more or less predict eclipses long before the
Greeks could. But these were merely causes of receptiveness;
what was received was mainly astrology and magic. "Astrology,"
says Professor Gilbert Murray, "fell upon the Hellenistic mind as
a new disease falls upon some remote island people. The tomb of
Ozymandias, as described by Diodorus, was covered with astro-
logical symbols, and that of Antiochus I, which has been dis-
covered in Commagene, is of the same character. It was natural
for monarchs to believe that the stars watched over them. But
every one was ready to receive the germ."1 It appears that astrology
was first taught to the Greeks in the time of Alexander, by a
Chaldean named Berosus, who taught in Cos, and, according to
Seneca, "interpreted Bel." "This," says Professor Murray, "must
mean that he translated into Greek the 'Eye of Bel,' a treatise in
seventy tablets found in the library of Assur-bani-pal (686-626 B.C.)
but composed for Sargon I in the third millennium B.C." (ibid.,
p. 176).

As we shall see, the majority even of the best philosophers fell
in with the belief in astrology. It involved, since it thought the
future predictable, a belief in necessity or fate, which could be
set against the prevalent belief in fortune. No doubt most men
believed in both, and never noticed the inconsistency.

The general confusion was bound to bring moral decay, even
more than intellectual enfeeblement. Ages of prolonged uncer-
tainty, while they are compatible with the highest degree of saintli-
ness in a few, are inimical to the prosaic every-day virtues of
respectable citizens. There seems no use in thrift, when to-morrow
all your savings may be dissipated ; no advantage in honesty, when
the man towards whom you practise it is pretty sure to swindle
you ; no point in steadfast adherence to a cause, when no cause is
important or has a chance of stable victory ; no argument in favour
of truthfulness, when only supple tergiversation makes the pre-
servation of life and fortune possible. The man whose virtue has
no source except a purely terrestrial prudence will, in such a world,
1 Fit* Stag€* of Gfttk Reti0<m9 pp. 17778

THE HELLENISTIC WORLD

become an adventurer if he has the courage, and, if not, will seek
obscurity as a timid time-server.
Menander, who belongs to this age, says:

So many cases I have known
Of men who, though not naturally rogues,
Became so, through misfortune, by constraint.

This sums up the moral character of the third century B.C.,
except for a few exceptional men. Even among these few, fear
took the place of hope ; the purpose of life was rather to escape
misfortune than to achieve any positive good. "Metaphysics sink
into the background, and ethics, now individual, become of the
first importance. Philosophy is no longer the pillar of fire going
before a few intrepid seekers after truth : it is rather an ambulance
following in the wake of the struggle for existence and picking up
the weak and wounded."1

1 C. F. Angus in Cambridge Ancient History, Vol. VII, p. 231. The
above quotation from Menander is taken from the same chapter.

251

Chapter XXVI
CYNICS AND SCEPTICS

E I IHE relation of intellectually eminent men to contemporary
I society has been very different in different ages. In some
JL fortunate epochs they have been on the whole in harmony
with their surroundings — suggesting, no doubt, such reforms as
seemed to them necessary, but fairly confident that their sugges-
tions would be welcomed, and not disliking the world in which
they found themselves even if it remained unreformed. At other
times they have been revolutionary, considering that radical
alterations were called for, but expecting that, partly as a result
of their advocacy, these alterations would be brought about in the
near future. At yet other times they have despaired of the world,
and felt that, though they themselves knew what was needed,
there was no hope of its being brought about. This mood sinks
easily into the deeper despair which regards life on earth as
essentially bad, and hopes for good only in a future life or in
some mystical transfiguration.

In some ages, all these attitudes have been adopted by different
men living at the same time. Consider, for example, the early
nineteenth century. Goethe is comfortable, Bentharn is a reformer,
Shelley is a revolutionary, and Leopardi is a pessimist. But in
most periods there has been a prevailing tone among great writers.
In England they were comfortable under Elizabeth and in the
eighteenth century; in France, they became revolutionary about
1750; in Germany, they have been nationalistic since 1813.

During the period of ecclesiastical domination, from the fifth
century to the fifteenth, there was a certain conflict between what
was theoretically believed and what was actually felt. Theoretically,
the world was a vale of tears, a preparation, amid tribulation, for
the world to come. But in practice the writers of hooks, being
almost all clerics, could not help feeling exhilarated by the power
of the Church; they found opportunity for abundant activity of
a sort that they believed to be useful. They had therefore the
mentality of a governing class, not of men who feel themselves
exiles in an alien world. This is part of the curious dualism that
runs through the Middle Ages, owing to the fact that the Church,

252

CYNICS AND SCEPTICS

chough based on other-worldly beliefs, was the most important
institution in the every-day world.

The psychological preparation for the other-worldliness of
Christianity begins in the Hellenistic period, and is connected
with the eclipse of the City State. Down to Aristotle, Greek philo-
sophers, though they might complain of this or that, were, in
the main, not cosmically despairing, nor did they feel themselves
politically impotent. They might, at times, belong to a beaten
party, but, if so, their defeat was due to the chances of conflict,
not to any inevitable powerlessness of the wise. Even those who,
like Pythagoras, and Plato in certain moods, condemned the world
of appearance and sought escape in mysticism, had practical plans
for turning the governing classes into saints and sages. When
political power passed into the hands of the Macedonians, Greek
philosophers, as was natural, turned aside from politics and
devoted themselves more to the problem of individual virtue or
salvation. They no longer asked: how can men create a good
State? They asked instead: how can men be virtuous in a wicked
world, or happy in a world of suffering? The change, it is true,
is only one of degree ; such questions had been asked before, and
the later Stoics, for a time, again concerned themselves with
politics — the politic^ of Rome, not of Greece. But the change was
none the less real. Except to a limited extent during the Roman
period in Stoicism, the outlook of those who thought and felt
seriously became increasingly subjective and individualistic, until,
at last, Christianity evolved a gospel of individual salvation which
inspired missionary zeal and created the Church. Until that
happened, there was no institution to which the philosopher could
give whole-hearted adherence, and therefore there was no ade-
cjuate outlet for his legitimate love of power. For this reason, the
philosophers of the Hellenistic period are more limited as human
beings than the men who lived while the City State could still
inspire allegiance. They still think, because they cannot help
thinking; but they scarcely hope that their thought will bear fruit
in the world of affairs.

Four schools of philosophy were founded about the time of
Alexander. The two most famous, the Stoics and Epicureans,
will be the subjects of later chapters ; in the present chapter we
shall be concerned with the Cynics and Sceptics.

The first of these schools is derived, through its founder Dio-

253

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

genes, from Amisthenes, a disciple of Socrates, about twenty
years older than Plato. Antisthenes was a remarkable character,
in some ways rather like Tolstoy. Until after the death of Socrates,
he lived in the aristocratic circle of his fellow disciples, and
showed no sign of unorthodoxy. But something — whether the
defeat of Athens, or the death of Socrates, or a distaste for philo-
sophic quibbling — caused him, when no longer young, to despise
the things that he had formerly valued. He would have nothing
but simple goodness. He associated with working men, and
dressed as one of them. He took to open-air preaching, in a style
that the uneducated could understand. All refined philosophy he
held to be worthless; what could be known, could be known by
the plain man. He believed in the "return to nature/1 and carried
this belief very far. There was to be no government, no private
property, no marriage, no established religion. His followers, if
not he himself, condemned slavery. He was not exactly ascetic,
but he despised luxury and all pursuit of artificial pleasures of
the senses. "I had rather be mad than delighted/' he said.1

The fame of Antisthenes was surpassed by that of his disciple
Diogenes, "a young man from Sinope, on the Euxine, whom he
[Antisthenes] did not take to at first sight ; the son of a disreputable
money-changer who had been sent to prison for defacing the
coinage. Antisthenes ordered the lad away, but he paid no attention ;
he beat him with his stick, but he never moved. He wanted
'wisdom/ and saw that Antisthenes had it to give. His aim in
life was to do as his father had done, to 'deface the coinage/ but
on a much larger scale. He would deface all the coinage current
in the world. Every conventional stamp was false. The men
stamped as generals and kings; the things stamped as honour and
wisdom and happiness and riches ; all were base metal with lying
superscription/'*

He decided to live like a dog, and was therefore called a "cynic,"
which means "canine." He rejected all conventions — whether of
religion, of manners, of dress, of housing, of food, or of decency.
One is told that he lived in a tub, but Gilbert Murray assures us
that this is a mistake: it was a large pitcher, of the sort used in
primitive times for burials.8 He lived, like an Indian fakir, by
begging. He proclaimed his brotherhood, not only with the whole

1 Benn, Vol. II, pp. 4, 5: Murray, Five Stagey pp. 113-14.

9 Ibid., p. 117. • Ibid., p. no.

CYNICS AND SCEPTICS

human race, but also with animals. He was a man about whom
stories gathered, even in his lifetime. Everyone knows how
Alexander visited him, and asked if he desired any favour ; "only
to stand out of my light/' he replied.

The teaching of Diogenes was by no means what we now call
"cynical"— quite the contrary. He had an ardent passion for
"virtue," in comparison with which he held worldly goods of no
account. He sought virtue and moral freedom in liberation from
desire: be indifferent to the goods that fortune has to bestow,
and you will be emancipated from fear. In this respect, his doctrine,
as we shall see, was taken up by the Stoics, but they did not follow
him in rejecting the amenities of civilization. He considered that
Prometheus was justly punished for bringing to man the arts that
have produced the complication and artificiality of modern life.
In this he resembled the Taoists and Rousseau and Tolstoy, but
was more consistent than they were.

His doctrine, though he was a contemporary of Aristotle,
belongs in its temper to the Hellenistic age. Aristotle is the last
Greek philosopher who faces the world cheerfully ; after him, all
have, in one form or another, a philosophy of retreat. The world
is bad ; let us learn to be independent of it. External goods are
precarious ; they are the gift of fortune, not the reward of our own
efforts. Only subjective goods — virtue, or contentment through
resignation — are secure, and these alone, therefore, will be valued
by the wise man. Diogenes personally was a man full of vigour,
but his doctrine, like all those of the Hellenistic age, was one to
appeal to weary men, in whom disappointment had destroyed
natural zest. And it was certainly not a doctrine calculated to
promote art or science or statesmanship, or any useful activity
except one of protest against powerful evil.

It is interesting to observe what the Cynic teaching became
when it was popularized. In the early part of the third century B.C.,
the cynics were the fashion, especially in Alexandria. They
published little sermons pointing out how easy it is to do without
material possessions, how happy one can be on simple food, how
warm one can keep in winter without expensive clothes (which
might be true in Egypt I), how silly it is to feel affection for one's
native country, or to mourn when one's children or friends die.
"Because my son or my wife is dead/* says Teles, who was one
of these popularizing Cynics, "is that any reason for my neglecting

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

myself, who am still alive, and ceasing to look after my property ?"*
At this point, it becomes difficult to feel any sympathy with the
simple life, which has grown altogether too simple. One wonders
who enjoyed these sermons. Was it the rich, who wished to think
the sufferings of the poor imaginary? Or was it the new poor,
who were trying to despise the successful business man ? Or was
it sycophants who persuaded themselves that the charity they
accepted was unimportant? Teles says to a rich man: "You give
liberally and I take valiantly from you, neither grovelling nor
demeaning myself basely nor grumbling."2 A very convenient
doctrine. Popular Cynicism did not teach abstinence from the good
things of this world, but only a certain indifference to them. In
the case of a borrower, this might take the form of minimizing
the obligation to the lender. One can see how the word "cynic"
acquired its everyday meaning.

What was best in the Cynic doctrine passed over into Stoicism,
which was an altogether more complete and rounded philosophy.

Scepticism, as a doctrine of the schools, was first proclaimed
by Pyrrho, who was in Alexander's army, and campaigned with
it as far as India. It seems that this gave him a sufficient taste of
travel, and that he spent the rest of his life in his native city, Elis,
where he died in 275 B.C. There was not much that was new in
his doctrine, beyond a certain systematizing and formalizing of
older doubts. Scepticism with regard to the senses had troubled
Greek philosophers from a very early stage ; the only exceptions
were those who, like Parmenides and Plato, denied the cognitive
value of perception, and made their denial into an opportunity
for an intellectual dogmatism. The Sophists, notably Protagoras
and Gorgias, had been led by the ambiguities and apparent con-
tradictions of sense-perception to a subjectivism not unlike I luine's.
Pyrrho seems (for he very wisely wrote no books) to have added
moral and logical scepticism to scepticism as to the senses. He
is said to have maintained that there could never be any rational
ground for preferring one course of action to another. In practice,
this meant that one conformed to the customs of whatever country
one inhabited. A modem disciple would go to church on Sundays
and perform the correct genuflexions, but without any of the
religious beliefs that are supposed to inspire these actions. Ancient

1 The Hellemstif Age (Cambridge, 1923), p. 84 11.
* Ibid., p. 86.

CYNICS AND SCEPTICS

Sceptics went through the whole pagan ritual, and were even
sometimes priests; their Scepticism assured them that this
behaviour could not be proved wrong, and their common sense
(which survived their philosophy) assured them that it was con-
venient.

Scepticism naturally made an appeal to many unphilosophic
minds. People observed the diversity of schools and the acerbity
of their disputes, and decided that all alike were pretending to
knowledge which was in fact unattainable. Scepticism was a lazy
man's consolation, since it showed the ignorant to be as wise as
the reputed men of learning. To men who, by temperament,
required a gospel, it might seem unsatisfying, but like every
doctrine of the Hellenistic period it recommended itself as an
antidote to worry. Why trouble about the future? It is wholly
uncertain. You may as well enjoy the present; "what's to come
is still unsure/1 For these reasons, Scepticism enjoyed a con-
siderable popular success.

It should be observed that Scepticism as a philosophy is not
merely doubt, but what may be called dogmatic doubt. The man
of science says "I think it is so-and-so, but I am not sure." The
man of intellectual curiosity says "I don't know how it is, but I
hope to find out." The philosophical Sceptic says "nobody knows,
and nobody ever can know/' It is this element of dogmatism that
makes the system vulnerable. Sceptics, of course, deny that they
assert the impossibility of knowledge dogmatically, but their
denials are not very convincing.

Pyrrho's disciple Timon, however, advanced some intellectual
arguments which, from the standpoint of Greek logic, were very
hard to answer. The only logic admitted by the Greeks was de-
ductive, and all deduction had to start, like Euclid, from general
principles regarded as self-evident. Timon denied the possibility
of finding such principles. Everything* therefore, will have to be
proved by means of something else, and all argument will be
either circular or an endless chain hanging from nothing. In either
case nothing can be proved. This argument, as we can see, cut
at the root of the Aristotelian philosophy which dominated the
Middle Ages.

Some forms of Scepticism which, in our own day, arc advocated
by men who arc by no means wholly sceptical, had not occurred
to the Sceptics of antiquity. They did not doubt phenomena, or

//Mlur> <>/

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

question propositions which, in their opinion, only expressed
what we know directly concerning phenomena. Most of Timon's
work is lost, but two surviving fragments will illustrate this point.
One says "The phenomenon is always valid." The other says:
"That honey w sweet I refuse to assert ; that it appears sweet, I
fully grant."1 A modern Sceptic would point out that the pheno-
menon merely occurs, and is not either valid or invalid; what is
valid or invalid must be a statement, and no statement can be so
closely linked to the phenomenon as to be incapable of falsehood.
For the same reason, he would say that the statement "honey
appears sweet" is only highly probable, not absolutely certain.

In some respects, the doctrine of Timon was very similar to
that of Hume. He maintained that something which had never
been observed — atoms, for instance — could not be validly inferred ;
but when two phenomena had been frequently observed together,
one could be inferred fiom the other.

Timon lived at Athens throughout the later years of his long
life, and died there in 235 B.C. With his death, the school of
Pyrrho, as a school, came to an end, but his doctrines, somewhat
modified, were taken up, strange as it may seem, by the Academy,
which represented the Platonic tradition.

The man who effected this surprising philosophic revolution
was Arcesilaus, a contemporary of Timon, who died as an old
man about 240 B.C. What most men have taken from Plato is
belief in a supersensible intellectual world and in the superiority
of the immortal soul to the mortal body. But Plato was many-
sided, and in some respects could be regarded as teaching scep-
ticism. The Platonic Socrates professes to know nothing; we
naturally treat this as irony, but it could be taken seriously.
Many of the dialogues reach no positive conclusion, and aim at
leaving the reader in a state of doubt. Some — the latter half of
the Parmenide*, for instance — might seem to have no purpose
except to show that either side of any question can be maintained
with equal plausibility. The Platonic dialectic could be treated
as an end, rather than a means, and if so treated it lent itself
admirably to the advocacy of Scepticism. This seems to have
been the way in which Arcesilaus interpreted the man whom he
still professed to follow. He had decapitated Plato, but at any rate
the torso that remained was genuine.

1 Quoted by Edwyn Bevan, Stoics and Sceptics, p. 126.

CYNICS AND SCEPTICS

The manner in which Arcesilaus taught would have had much
to commend it, if the young men who learnt from him had been
able to avoid being paralysed by it. He maintained no thesis, but
would refute any thesis set up by a pupil. Sometimes he would
himself advance two contradictory propositions on successive
occasions, showing how to argue convincingly in favour of either.
A pupil sufficiently vigorous to rebel might have learnt dexterity
and the avoidance of fallacies ; in fact, none seem to have learnt
anything except cleverness and indifference to truth. So great
was the influence of Arcesilaus that the Academy remained
sceptical for about two hundred years.

In the middle of this sceptical period, an amusing incident
occurred. Carneades, a worthy successor of Arcesilaus as head of
the Academy, was one of three philosophers sent by Athens on
a diplomatic mission to Rome in the year 156 B.C. He saw no
reason why his ambassadorial dignity should interfere with the
main chance, so he announced a course of lectures in Rome. The
young men, who, at that time, were anxious to ape Greek manners
and acquire Greek culture, flocked to hear him. His first lecture
expounded the views of Aristotle and Plato on justice, and was
thoroughly edifying. His second, however, was concerned in
refuting all that he had said in his first, not with a view to estab-
lishing opposite conclusions, but merely to show that every con-
clusion is unwarranted. Plato's Socrates had argued that to inflict
injustice was a greater evil to the perpetrator than to suffer it.
Carneadcs, in his second lecture, treated this contention with
scorn. Great States, he pointed out, had become great by unjust
aggressions against their weaker neighbours; in Rome, this could
not well be denied. In a shipwreck, you may save your life at the
expense of some one weaker, and you are a fool if you do not.
"Women and children first," he seems to think, is not a maxim
that leads to personal survival. What would you do if you were
flying from a victorious enemy, you had lost your horse, but you
found a wounded comrade on a horse? If you were sensible, you
would drag him off and seize his horse, whatever justice might
ordain. All this not very edifying argumentation is surprising in
a nominal follower of Plato, but it seems to have pleased the
modern-minded Roman youths.

There was one man whom it did not please, and that was the
Cato, who represented the stern, stiff, stupid, and brutal

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

moral code by means of which Rome had defeated Carthage.
From youth to old age, he lived simply, rose early, practised
severe manual labour, ate only coarse food, and never wore a
gown that cost over a hundred pence. Towards the State he was
scrupulously honest, avoiding all bribery and plunder. He exacted
of other Romans all the virtues that he practised himself, and
asserted that to accuse and pursue the wicked was the best thing
an honest man could do. He enforced, as far as he could, the old
Roman severity of manners:

"Cato put out of the Senate also, one Manilius, who was in
great towardness to have been made Consul the next year following,
only because he kissed his wife too lovingly in the day time, and
before his daughter: and reproving him for it, he told him, his
wife never kissed him, but when it thundered."1

When he was in power, he put down luxury and feasting. He
made his wife suckle not only her own children, but also those of
his slaves, in order that, having been nourished by the same milk,
they might love his children. When his slaves were too old to
work, he sold them remorselessly. He insisted that his slaves
should always be either working or sleeping. He encouraged his
slaves to quarrel with each other, for "he could not abide that
they should be friends." When a slave had committed a grave
fault, he would call in his other slaves, and induce them to condemn
the delinquent to death; he would then carry out the sentence
with his own hands in the presence of the survivors.

The contrast between Cato and Carneades was very complete:
the one brutal through a morality that was too strict and too
traditional, the other ignoble through a morality that was too
lax and too much infected with the social dissolution of the
Hellenistic world.

"Marcus Cato, even from the beginning that young men began
to study the Greek tongue, and that it grew in estimation in Rome,
did dislike of it: fearing lest the youth of Rome that were desirous
of learning and eloquence, would utterly give over the honour and
glory of arms. ... So lie openly found fault one day in the
Senate, that the Ambassadors were long there, and had no dis-
patch : considering also they were cunning men, and could easily
persuade what they would. And if there were no other respect,
this only might persuade them to determine some answer for
1 North's Plutarch, Lftto, Marcus Cato.

CYNICS AND SCEPTICS

them, and to send them home again to their schools, to teach
their children of Greece, and to let alone the children of Rome,
that they might learn to obey the laws and the Senate, as they
had done before. Now he spake thus to the Senate, not of any
private ill will or malice he bare to Carneades, as some men
thought: but because he generally hated philosophy."1

The Athenians, in Cato's view, were a lesser breed without the
law; it did not matter if they were degraded by the shallow soph-
istries of intellectuals, but the Roman youth must be kept puri-
tanical, imperialistic, ruthless, and stupid. He failed, however;
later Romans, while retaining many of his vices, adopted those of
Carneades also.

The next head of the Academy, after Carneades (ca. 180 to
ca. no B.C.), was a Carthaginian whose real name was Hasdrubal,
but who, in his dealings with Greeks, preferred to call himself
Clitomachus. Unlike Carneades, who confined himself to lec-
turing, Clitomachus wrote over four hundred books, some of
them in the Phoenician language. His principles appear to have
been the same as those of Carneades. In some respects, they were
useful. These two Sceptics set themselves against the belief in
divination, magic, and astrology, which was becoming more and
more widespread. They also developed a constructive doctrine,
concerning degrees of probability: although we can never be
justified in feeling certainty, some things are more likely to be
true than others. Probability should be our guide in practice, since
it is reasonable to act on the most probable of possible hypo-
theses. This view is one with which most modern philosophers
would agree. Unfortunately, the books setting it forth are lost, and
it is difficult to reconstruct the doctrine from the hints that remain.

After Clitomachus, the Academy ceased to be sceptical, and from
the time of Antiochus (who died in 69 B.C.) its doctrines became,
for centuries, practically indistinguishable from those of the Stoics.

Scepticism, however, did not disappear. It was revived by the
Cretan Aenesidemus, who came from Knossos, where, for aught
we know, there may have been Sceptics two thousand years earlier,
entertaining dissolute courtiers with doubts as to the divinity of
the mistress of animals. The date of Aenesidemus is uncertain.
He threw over the doctrines on probability advocated by Carneades,
and reverted to the earliest forms of Scepticism. 11 is influence was
1 North's Plutarch, Ltvtt, Marcus Cato

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

considerable; he was followed by the satirist Lucian in the second
century A.D., and also, slightly later, by Sextus Empiricus, the
only Sceptic philosopher of antiquity whose works survive. There
is, for example, a short treatise, "Arguments Against Belief in a
God," translated by Edwyn Bevan in his Later Greek Religion,
pp. 52-56, and said by him to be probably taken by Sextus
Empiricus from Carneades, as reported by Clitomachus.

This treatise begins by explaining that, in behaviour, the Sceptics
are orthodox: "We sceptics follow in practice the way of the world,
but without holding any opinion about it. We speak of the Gods
as existing and offer worship to the Gods and say that they exercise
providence, but in saying this we express no belief, and avoid the
rashness of the dogmatize rs."

He then argues that people differ as to the nature of God ; for
instance, some think Him corporeal, some incorporeal. Since we
have no experience of Him, we cannot know His attributes. The
existence of God is not self-evident, and therefore needs proof.
There is a somewhat confused argument to show that no such
proof is possible. He next takes up the problem of evil, and
concludes with the words:

"Those who affirm positively that God exists cannot avoid falling
into an impiety. For if they say that God controls everything,
they make Him the author of evil things; if, on the other hand,
they say that He controls some things only, or that He controls
nothing, they are compelled to make God cither grudging or
impotent, and to do that is quite obviously an impiety/'

Scepticism, while it continued to appeal to some cultivated indi-
viduals until somewhere in the third century A.D., was contrary
to the temper of the age, which was turning more and more to
dogmatic religion and doctrines of salvation. Scepticism had
enough force to make educated men dissatisfied with the State
religions, but it had nothing positive, even in the purely intellectual
sphere, to offer in their place. From the Renaissance onwards,
theological scepticism has been supplemented, in most of its
advocates, by an enthusiastic belief in science, but in antiquity
there was no such supplement to doubt. Without answering the
arguments of the Sceptics, the ancient world turned aside from
them. The Olympians being discredited, the way was left clear
for an invasion of oriental religions, which competed for the
favour of the superstitious until the triumph of Christianity.

262

Chapter XXVII
THE EPICUREANS

p I 1HE two great new schools of the Hellenistic period, the
I Stoics and Epicureans, were contemporaneous in their
JL foundation. Their founders, Zeno and Epicurus, were born
at about the same time, and settled in Athens as heads of their
respective sects within a few years of each other. It is therefore
a matter of taste which to consider first. I shall begin with the
Epicureans, because their doctrines were fixed once for all by
their founder, whereas Stoicism had a long development,
extending as far as the Emperor Marcus Aurelius, who died
in A.D. 1 80.

The main authority for the life of Epicurus is Diogenes Laertius,
who lived in the third century A.D. There are, however, two diffi-
culties: first, Diogenes Laertius is himself ready to accept legends
of little or no historical value; second, part of his Life consists in
reporting the scandalous accusations brought against Epicurus by
the Stoics, and it is not always clear whether he is asserting some-
thing himself or merely mentioning a libel. The scandals invented
by the Stoics are facts about them, to be remembered when their
lofty morality is praised; but they are not facts about Epicurus.
For instance, there was a legend that his mother was a quack
priestess, as to which Diogenes says:

"They (apparently the Stoics) say that he used to go round
from house to house with his mother reading out the purification
prayers, and assisted his father in elementary teaching for a
miserable pittance."

On this Bailey comments:1 "If there is any truth in the story
that he went about with his mother as an acolyte, reciting the
formulae of her incantations, he may well have been inspired in
quite early years with the hatred of superstition, which was after-
wards so prominent a feature in his teaching." This theory is
attractive, but, in view of the extreme unscrupulousness of later
antiquity in inventing a scandal, I do not think it can be accepted

1 The Greek Atomitts and Epicurus, by Cyril Bailey, Oxford, 1928,
p. 221. Mr. Bailey has made a specialty of Epicurus, and his book is
invaluable to the student.

•63

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

as having any foundation.1 There is against it the fact that he
had an unusually strong affection for his mother.2

The main facts of the life of Epicurus seem, however, fairly
certain. His father was a poor Athenian colonist in Samos ; Epi-
curus was born in 342-1 B.C., but whether in Samos or in Attica
is not known. In any case, his boyhood was passed in Samos. He
states that he took to the study of philosophy at the age of fourteen.
At the age of eighteen, about the time of Alexander's death, he
went to Athens, apparently to establish his citizenship, but while
he was there the Athenian colonists were turned out of Samos
(322 B.C.). The family of Epicurus became refugees in Asia Minor,
where he rejoined them. At Taos, either at this time, or perhaps
earlier, he was taught philosophy by a certain Nausiphanes,
apparently a follower of Democritus. Although his mature philo-
sophy owes more to Democritus than to any other philosopher,
he never expressed anything but contempt for Nausiphanes,
whom he alluded to as "The Mollusc."

In the year 311 he founded his school, which was first in
Mitylene, then in Lampsacus, and, from 307 onwards, in Athens,
where he died in 270-1 B.C.

After the hard years of his youth, his life in Athens was placid,
and was only troubled by his ill health. He had a house and a
garden (apparently separate from the house), and it was in the
garden that he taught. His three brothers, and some others, had
been members of his school from the first, but in Athens his
community was increased, not only by philosophic disciples, but
by friends and their children, slaves and hetaerae. These last were
made an occasion of scandal by his enemies, but apparently quite
unjustly. He had a very exceptional capacity for purely human
friendship, and wrote pleasant letters to the young children of
members of the community. He did not practise that dignity and
reserve in the expression of the emotions that was expected of
ancient philosophers; his letters are amazingly natural and
unaffected.

The life of the community was very simple, partly on principle,

1 The Stoics were very unjust to Epicurus. Epictctus, for example,
addressing him, says; "This is the life of which you pronounce yourself
worthy: eating, drinking, copulation, evacuation and snoring." Book II,
chap, n, Ditcoune* of Epictctus.

a Gilbert Murray, Five Stages, p. 130

THE EPICUREANS

and partly (no doubt) for lack of money. Their food and drink
was mainly bread and water, which Epicurus found quite satis-
fying. "I am thrilled with pleasure in the body," he says, "when
I live on bread and water, and I spit on luxurious pleasures, not
for their own sake, but because of the inconveniences that follow
them." The community depended financially, at least in part,
on voluntary contributions. "Send me some preserved cheese,"
he writes, "that when I like, I may have a feast." To another
friend: "Send us offerings for the sustenance of our holy body
on behalf of yourself and your children." And again: "The only

contribution I require is that which ordered the disciples to

send me, even if they be among the Hyperboreans. I wish to
receive from each of you two hundred and twenty drachmae1 a
year and no more."

Epicurus suffered all his life from bad health, but learnt to
endure it with great fortitude. It was he, not a Stoic, who first
maintained that a man could be happy on the rack. Two letters
written, one a few days before his death, the other on the day of
his death, show that he had some right to this opinion. The first
says: "Seven days before writing this the stoppage became com-
plete and I suffered pains such as bring men to their last day. If
anything happens to me, do you look after the children of Metro-
dorus for four or five years, but do not spend any more on them
than you now spend on me." The second says: "On this truly
happy day of my life, as I am at the point of death, I write this
to you. The diseases in my bladder and stomach are pursuing
their course, lacking nothing of their usual severity: but against
all this is the joy in my heart at the recollection of my conversa-
tions with you. Do you, as I might expect from your devotion
from boyhood to me and to philosophy, take good care of the
children of Metrodorus." Metrodorus, who had been one of his
first disciples, was dead; Epicurus provided for his children in
his will.

Although Epicurus was gentle and kindly towards most people,
a different side of his character appeared in his relations to philo-
sophers, especially those to whom he might be considered in-
debted. "I suppose," he says, "that these grumblers will believe
me to be a disciple of The Mollusc (Nausiphanes) and to have
listened to his teaching in company with a few bibulous youths.
1 About five pounds.

265

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

For indeed the fellow was a bad man and his habits such as
could never lead to wisdom."1 He never acknowledged the extent
of his indebtedness to Democritus, and as for Leucippus, he
asserted that there was no such philosopher — meaning, no doubt,
not that there was no such man, but that the man was not a
philosopher. Diogenes Laertius gives a whole list of abusive
epithets that he is supposed to have applied to the most eminent
of his predecessors. With this lack of generosity towards other
philosophers goes another grave fault, that of dictatorial dog-
matism. His followers had to learn a kind of creed embodying
his doctrines, which they were not allowed to question. To the
end, none of them added or modified anything. When Lucretius,
two hundred years later, turned the philosophy of Epicurus into
poetry, he added, so far as can be judged, nothing theoretical to
the master's teaching. Wherever comparison is possible, Lucretius
is found to agree closely with the original, and it is generally
held that, elsewhere, he may be used to fill in the gaps in our
knowledge caused by the loss of all of Epicurus's three hundred
books. Of his writings, nothing remains except a few letters, some
fragments, and a statement of "Principal Doctrines."

The philosophy of Epicurus, like all those of his age (with the
partial exception of Scepticism), was primarily designed to secure
tranquillity. He considered pleasure to be the good, and adhered,
with remarkable consistency* to all the consequences of this view.
"Pleasure," he said, "is the beginning and end of the blessed life.0
Diogenes Laertius quotes him as saying, in a book on The End of
Life, "I know not how I can conceive the good, if I withdraw the
pleasures of taste and withdraw the pleasures of love and those of
hearing and sight." Again: "The beginning and the root of all
good is the pleasure of the stomach; even wisdom and culture
must be referred to this." The pleasure of the mind, we are told,
is the contemplation of pleasures of the body. Its only advantage
over bodily pleasures is that we can learn to contemplate pleasure
rather than pain, and thus have more control over mental
than over physical pleasures. "Virtue," unless it means "pru-
dence in the pursuit of pleasure," is an empty name. Justice, for
example, consists in so acting as not to have occasion to fear
other men's resentment — a view which leads to a doctrine

1 The Stoic and Epicurean Philosophers, by W. J. Gates, p. 47. Whtre
possible, I have availed myself of Mr. Oates's translations.

266

THE EPICUREANS

of the origin of society not unlike the theory of the Social
Contract.

Epicurus disagrees with some of his hedonist predecessors in
distinguishing between active and passive pleasures, or dynamic
and static pleasures. Dynamic pleasures consist in the attainment
of a desired end, the previous desire having been accompanied
by pain. Static pleasures consist in a state of equilibrium, which
results from the existence of the kind of state of affairs that would
be desired if it were absent. I think one may say that the satisfying
of hunger, while it is in progress, is a dynamic pleasure, but the
state of quiescence which supervenes when hunger is completely
satisfied is a static pleasure. Of these two kinds, Epicurus holds it
more prudent to pursue the second, since it is unalloyed, and does
not depend upon the existence of pain as a stimulus to desire.
When the body is in a state of equilibrium, there is no pain; we
should, therefore, aim at equilibrium and the quiet pleasures
rather than at more violent joys. Epicurus, it seems, would wish,
if it were possible, to be always in the state of having eaten
moderately, never in that of voracious desire to eat.

He is thus led, in practice, to regarding absence of pain, rather
than presence of pleasure, as the wise man's goal.1 The stomach
may be at the root of things, but the pains of stomach-ache out-
weigh the pleasures of gluttony; accordingly Epicurus lived on
bread, with a little cheese on feast days. Such desires as those for
wealth and honour are futile, because they make a man restless
when he might be contented. ' 'The greatest good of all is prudence :
it is a more precious thing even than philosophy." Philosophy, as
he understood it, was a practical system designed to secure a
happy life; it required only common sense, not logic or mathe-
matics or any of the elaborate training prescribed by Plato. He
urges his young disciple and friend Pythodes to "flee from every
form of culture." It was a natural consequence of his principles
that he advised abstinence from public life, for in proportion as
a man achieves power he increases the number of those who envy
him and therefore wish to do him injury. Even if he escapes out-
ward misfortune, peace of mind is impossible in such a situation.
The wise man will try to live unnoticed, so as to have no enemies.

Sexual love, as one of the most "dynamic11 of pleasures, naturally

1 (For Epicurus) "Absence of pain is in itself pleasure, indeed in his
ultimate analvsia the truest pleasure.'1 Bailey, op. of., p. 349.

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

comes under the ban. "Sexual intercourse," the philosopher
declares, "has never done a man good and he is lucky if it has not
harmed him." He was fond of children (other people's), but for
the gratification of this taste he seems to have relied upon other
people not to follow his advice. He seems, in fact, to have liked
children against his better judgment ; for he considered marriage
and children a distraction from more serious pursuits. Lucretius,
who follows him in denouncing love, sees no harm in sexual
intercourse provided it is divorced from passion.

The safest of social pleasures, in the opinion of Epicurus, is
friendship. Epicurus, like Bentham, is a man who considers that
all men, at all times, pursue only their own pleasure, sometimes
wisely, sometimes unwisely; but, again like Bentham, he is con-
stantly seduced by his own kindly and affectionate nature into
admirable behaviour from which, on his own theories, he ought
to have refrained. He obviously liked his friends without regard
to what he got out of them, but he persuaded himself that he was
as selfish as his philosophy held all men to be. According to
Cicero, he held that "friendship cannot be divorced from pleasure,
and for that reason must be cultivated, because without it neither
can we live in safety and without fear, nor even pleasantly."
Occasionally, however, he forgets his theories more or less: "all
friendship is desirable in itself," he says, adding "though it starts
from the need of help."1

Epicurus, though his ethic seemed to others swinish and lacking
in moral exaltation, was very much in earnest. As we have seen,
he speaks of the community in the garden as "our holy body";
he wrote a book On Holiness ; he had all the fervour of a religious
reformer. He must have had a strong emotion of pity for the
sufferings of mankind, and an unshakeable conviction that they
would be greatly lessened if men would adopt his philosophy. It
was a valetudinarian's philosophy, designed to suit a world in
which adventurous happiness had become scarcely possible. Eat
little, for fear of indigestion ; drink little, for fear of next morning ;
eschew politics and love and all violently passionate activities; do
not give hostages to fortune by marrying and having children ; in
your mental life, teach yourself to contemplate pleasures rather
than pains. Physical pain is certainly a great evil, but if severe,

1 On the subject of friendship and Epicurus's amiable inconsistency,
see Bailey, op. cit., pp. 517-20.

268

THE EPICUREANS

it is brief, and if prolonged, it can be endured. by means of mental
discipline and the habit of thinking of happy things in spite of it.
Above all, live so as to avoid fear.

It was through the problem of avoiding fear that Epicurus was
led into theoretical philosophy. He held that two of the greatest
sources of fear were religion and the dread of death, which were
connected, since religion encouraged the view that the dead are
unhappy. He therefore sought a metaphysic which would prove
that the gods do not interfere in human affairs, and that the soul
perishes with the body. Most modern people think of religion as
a consolation, but to Epicurus it was the opposite. Supernatural
interference with the course of nature seemed to him a source of
terror, and immortality fatal to the hope of release from pain.
Accordingly he constructed an elaborate doctrine designed to
cure men of the beliefs that inspire fear.

Epicurus was a materialist, but not a determinist. He followed
Democritus in believing that the world consists of atoms and the
void; but he did not believe, as Democritus did, that the atoms are
at all times completely controlled by natural laws. The conception
of necessity in Greece was, as we have seen, religious in origin,
and perhaps he was right in considering that an attack on religion
would be incomplete if it allowed necessity to survive. His atoms
had weight, and were continually falling; not towards the centre
of the earth, but downwards in some absolute sense. Every now
and then, however, an atom, actuated by something like free will,
would swerve slightly from the direct downward path,1 and so
would come into collision with some other atom. From this point
onwards, the development of vortices, etc., proceeded in much the
same way as in Democritus. The soul is material, and is composed
of particles like those of breath and heat. (Epicurus thought
breath and wind different in substance from air; they were not
merely air in motion.) Soul-atoms are distributed throughout the
body. Sensation is due to thin films thrown off by bodies and
travelling on until they touch soul-atoms. These films may still
exist when the bodies from which they originally proceeded have
been dissolved; this accounts for dreams. At death, the soul is
dispersed, and its atoms, which of course survive, are no longer
capable of sensation, because they are no longer connected with

1 An analogous view is urged in our day by Eddtngton, in his inter-
pretation of the principle of indeterminacy.

369

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

the body. It follows, in the words of Epicurus, that "Death is
nothing to us; for that which is dissolved, is without sensation,
and that which lacks sensation is nothing to us."

As for the gods, Epicurus firmly believes in their existence,
since he cannot otherwise account for the widespread existence
of the idea of gods. But he is persuaded that they do not trouble
themselves with the affairs of our human world. They are rational
hedonists, who follow his precepts, and abstain from public life;
government would be an unnecessary labour, to which, in their
life of complete blessedness, they feel no temptation. Of course,
divination and augury and all such practices are purely super-
stitious, and so is the belief in Providence.

There is therefore no ground for the fear that we may incur the
anger of the gods, or that we may suffer in Hades after death.
Though subject to the powers of nature, which can be studied
scientifically, we yet have free will, and are, within limits, the
masters of our fate. We cannot escape death, but death, rightly
understood, is no evil. If we live prudently, according to the
maxims of Epicurus, we shall probably achieve a measure of
freedom from pain. This is a moderate gospel, but to a man
impressed with human misery it sufficed to inspire enthusiasm

Epicurus has no interest in science on its own account ; he values
it solely as providing naturalistic explanations of phenomena which
superstition attributes to the agency of the gods. When there are
several possible naturalistic explanations, he holds that there is no
point in trying to decide between them. The phases of the moon,
for example, have been explained in many different ways; any
one of these, so long as it does not bring in the gods, is as good as
any other, and it would be idle curiosity to attempt to determine
which of them is true. It is no wonder that the Epicureans con-
tributed practically nothing to natural knowledge. They served a
useful purpose by their protest against the increasing devotion of
the later pagans to magic, astrology, and divination ; but they re-
mained, like their founder, dogmatic, limited, and without genuine
interest in anything outside individual happiness. They learnt by
heart the creed of Epicurus, and added nothing to it throughout
the centuries during which the school survived.

The only eminent disciple of Epicurus is the poet Lucretius
(99-55 B.C.), who was a contemporary of Julius Caesar. In the
last days of the Roman Republic, free thought was the fashion,

270

THE EPICUREANS

and the doctrines of Epicurus were popular among educated
people. The Emperor Augustus introduced an archaistic revival
of ancient virtue and ancient religion, which caused the poem of
Lucretius On the Nature of Things to become unpopular, and it
remained so until the Renaissance. Only one manuscript of it
survived die Middle Ages, and that narrowly escaped destruction
by bigots. Hardly any great poet has had to wait so long for
recognition, but in modern times his merits have been almost
universally acknowledged. For example, he and Benjamin Franklin
were Shelley's favourite authors.

His poem sets forth in verse the philosophy of Epicurus. Al-
though the two men have the same doctrine, their temperaments
are very different. Lucretius was passionate, and much more in
need of exhortations to prudence than Epicurus was. He com-
mitted suicide, and appears to have suffered from periodic insanity
— brought on, so some averred, by the pains of love or the un-
intended effects of a love philtre. He feels towards Epicurus as
towards a saviour, and applies language of religious intensity to
the man whom he regards as the destroyer of religion:1

When prostrate upon earth lay human life
Visibly trampled down and foully crushed
Beneath Religion's cruelty, who meanwhile
Out of the regions of the heavens above
Showed forth her face, lowering on mortal men
With horrible aspect, first did a man of Greece
Dare to lift up his mortal eyes against her;
The first was he to stand up and defy her.
Him neither stories of the gods, nor lightnings,
Nor heaven with muttering menaces could quell,
But all the more did they arouse his soul's
Keen valour, till he longed to be the first
To break through the fast-bolted doors of Nature.
Therefore his fervent energy of mind
Prevailed, and he passed onward, voyaging far
Beyond the flaming ramparts of the world,
Ranging in mind and spirit far and wide
Throughout the unmeasured universe ; and thence
A conqueror he returns to us, bringing back
Knowledge both of what can and what cannot
Rise into being, teaching us in fine

1 1 quote the translation of Mr. R. C. Trevelyan, Book 1, 60-79.

271

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

Upon what principle each thing has its powers
Limited, and its deep-set boundary stone.
Therefore now has Religion been cast down
Beneath men's feet, and trampled on in turn:
Ourselves heaven-high his victory exalts.

The hatred of religion expressed by Epicurus and Lucretius is
not altogether easy to understand, if one accepts the conventional
accounts of the cheerfulness of Greek religion and ritual. Keats 's
Ode on a Grecian Urn, for instance, celebrates a religious ceremony,
but not one which could fill men's minds with dark and gloomy
terrors. I think popular beliefs were very largely not of this cheerful
kind. The worship of the Olympians had less of superstitious
cruelty than the other forms of Greek religion, but even the
Olympian gods had demanded occasional human sacrifice until
the seventh or sixth century B.C., and this practice was recorded
in myth and drama.1 Throughout the barbarian world, human
sacrifice was still recognized in the time of Epicurus; until the
Roman conquest, it was practised in times of crisis, such as the
Punic Wars, by even the most civilized of barbarian populations.

As was shown most convincingly by Jane Harrison, the Greeks
had, in addition to the official cults of Zeus and his family, other
more primitive beliefs associated with more or less barbarous rites.
These were to some extent incorporated in Orphism, which
became the prevalent belief among men of religious temperament.
It is sometimes supposed that Hell was a Christian invention, but
this is a mistake. What Christianity did in this respect was only
to systematize earlier popular beliefs. From the beginning of Plato's
Republic it is clear that the fear of punishment after death was
common in fifth-century Athens, and it is not likely that it grew
less in the interval between Socrates and Epicurus. (I am thinking
not of the educated minority, but of the general population.)
Certainly, also, it was common to attribute plagues, earthquakes,
defeats in war, and such calamities, to divine displeasure or to
failure to respect the omens. I think that Greek literature and art
are probably very misleading as regards popular beliefs. What
should we know of Methodism in the late eighteenth century if
no record of the period survived except its aristocratic books and
paintings? The influence of Methodism, like that of religiosity in

1 Lucretius instances the sacrifice of Iphigcnia as an example of the
harm wrought by religion. Book I, 85-100.

272

THE EPICUREANS

the Hellenistic age, rose from below; it was already powerful in
the time of Boswell and Sir Joshua Reynolds, although from their
allusions to it the strength of its influence is not apparent. We
must not, therefore, judge of popular religion in Greece by the
pictures on "Grecian Urns" or by the works of poets and aristo-
cratic philosophers. Epicurus was not aristocratic, either by birth
or through his associates; perhaps this explains his exceptional
hostility to religion.

It is through the poem of Lucretius that the philosophy of Epi-
curus has chiefly become known to readers since the Renaissance.
What has most impressed them, when they were not professional
philosophers, is the contrast with Christian belief in such matters
as materialism, denial of Providence, and rejection of immortality.
What is especially striking to a modern reader is to have these
views — which, nowadays, are generally regarded as gloomy and
depressing — presented as a gospel of liberation from the burden
of fear. Lucretius is as firmly persuaded as any Christian of the
importance of true belief in matters of religion. After describing
how men seek escape from themselves when they are the victims
of an inner conflict, and vainly seek relief in change of place,
he says:1

Each man flies from his own self;
Yet from that self in fact he has no power
To escape: he clings to it in his own despite,
And loathes it too, because, though he is sick,
He perceives not the cause of his disease.
Which if he could but comprehend aright,
Each would put all things else aside and first
Study to learn the nature of the world,
Since 'tis our state during eternal time,
Not for one hour merely, that is in doubt,
That state wherein mortals will have to pass
The whole time that awaits them after death.

The age of Epicurus was a wean' age, and extinction could
appear as a welcome rest from travail of spirit. The last age of
the Republic, on the contrary, was not, to most Romans, a time
of disillusionment: men of titanic energy were creating out of
chaos a new order, which the Macedonians had failed to do. But
to the Roman aristocrat who stood aside from politics, and cared

1 Book III, 1068-76. I again quote Mr. R. C. Trevelyan's translation.

273

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

nothing for the scramble for power and plunder, the course of
events must have been profoundly discouraging. When to this
was added the affliction of recurrent insanity, it is not to be
wondered at that Lucretius accepted the hope of non-existence
as a deliverance.

But the fear of death is so deeply rooted in instinct that the
gospel of Epicurus could not, at any time, make a wide popular
appeal; it remained always the creed of a cultivated minority.
Even among philosophers, after the time of Augustus, it was, as
a rule, rejected in favour of Stoicism. It survived, it is true, though
with diminishing vigour, for six hundred years after the death of
Epicurus; but as men became increasingly oppressed by the
miseries of our terrestrial existence, they demanded continually
stronger medicine from philosophy or religion. The philosophers
took refuge, with few exceptions, in Neoplatonism ; the uneducated
turned to various Eastern superstitions, and then, in continually
increasing numbers, to Christianity, which, in its early form,
placed all good in the life beyond the grave, thus offering men a
gospel which was the exact opposite of that of Kpicurus. Doc-
trines very similar to his, however, were revived by the French
philosophes at the end of the eighteenth century, and brought to
England by Bentham and his followers; this was done in conscious
opposition to Christianity, which these men regarded as hostilcly
as Epicurus regarded the religions of his day.

Chapter XXVIII
STOICISM

STOICISM, while in origin contemporaneous with Epicurean-
ism, had a longer history and less constancy in doctrine.
The teaching of its founder Zeno, in the early part of the
third century B.C., was by no means identical with that of Marcus
Aurelius in the latter half of the second century A.D. Zeno was a
materialist, whose doctrines were, in the main, a combination of
Cynicism and Heraclitus; but gradually, through an admixture
of Platonism, the Stoics abandoned materialism, until, in the end,
little trace of it remained. Their ethical doctrine, it is true, changed
very little, and was what most of them regarded as of the chief
importance. liven in this respect, however, there is some change
of emphasis. As time goes on, continually less is said about the
other aspects of Stoicism, and continually more exclusive stress
is laid upon ethics and those parts of theology that are most
relevant to ethics. With regard to all the earlier Stoics, we are
hampered by the fact that their works survive only in a few frag-
ments. Seneca, Kpictetus, and Marcus Aurelius, who belong to
the first and second centuries A.D., alone survive in complete
books.

Stoicism is less Greek than any school of philosophy with which
we have been hitherto concerned. The early Stoics were mostly
Syrian, the later ones mostly Roman. Tarn (Hellenistic Civilization,
p. 287) suspects Chaldean influences in Stoicism. Uebenveg justly
observes that, in Hcllenizing the barbarian world, the Greeks
dropped what only suited themselves. Stoicism, unlike the earlier
purely Greek philosophies, is emotionally narrow, and in a certain
sense fanatical ; but it also contains religious elements of which
the world felt the need, and which the Greeks seemed unable to
supply. In particular, it appealed to rulers: "nearly all the suc-
cessors of Alexander — we may say all the principal kings in
existence in the generations following Zeno— professed themselves
Stoics," says Professor Gilbert Murray.

Zeno was a Phoenician, born at Citium, in Cyprus, at some time
during the latter half of the fourth century B.C. It seems probable
that his family were engaged in commerce, and that business

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

interests were what first took him to Athens. When there, however,
he became anxious to study philosophy. The views of the Cynics
were more congenial to him than those of any other school, but
he was something of an eclectic. The followers of Plato accused
him of plagiarizing the Academy. Socrates was the chief saint of
the Stoics throughout their history; his attitude at the time of
his trial, his refusal to escape, his calmness in the face of death,
and his contention that the perpetrator of injustice injures himself
more than his victim, all fined in perfectly with Stoic teaching.
So did his indifference to heat and cold, his plainness in matters
of food and dress, and his complete independence of all bodily
comforts. But the Stoics never took over Plato1* doctrine of ideas,
and most of them rejected his arguments for immortality. Only
the later Stoics followed him in regarding the soul as immaterial ;
the earlier Stoics agreed with Heraclitus in the view that the soul
is composed of material fire. Verbally, this doctrine is also to be
found in Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius, but it seems that in
them the fire is not to be taken literally as one of the four elements
of which physical things are composed.

Zcno had no patience with metaphysical subtleties. Virtue was
what he thought important, and he only valued physics and meta-
physics in so far as they contributed to virtue. He attempted to
combat the metaphysical tendencies of the age by means of
common sense, which, in Greece, meant materialism. Doubts as
to the trustworthiness of the senses annoyed him, and he pushed
the opposite doctrine to extremes.

"Zeno began by asserting the existence of the real world. 'What
do you mean by real ?' asked the Sceptic. 'I mean solid and material.
I mean that this table is solid matter/ 'And God/ asked the
Sceptic, 'and the Soul?' 'Perfectly solid/ said Zeno, 'more solid,
if anything, than the table.' 'And virtue or justice or the Rule of
Three; also solid matter?' 4Of course,' said Zeno, 'quite solid/ "'

It is evident that, at this point, Zeno, like many others, was
hurried by anti-metaphysical zeal into a metaphysic of his own.

The main doctrines to which the school remained constant
throughout are concerned with cosmic determinism and human
freedom. Zeno believed that there is no such thing as chance, and
that the course of nature is rigidly determined by natural laws.
Originally there was only fire; then the other elements — air, water.

1 Gilbert Murray, The Stoic Philosophy (1915), P. as-
276

STOICISM

earth, in that order — gradually emerged. But sooner or later there
will be a cosmic conflagration, and all will again become fire. This,
according to most Stoics, is not a final consummation, like the
end of the world in Christian doctrine, but only the conclusion
of a cycle; the whole process will be repeated endlessly. Every-
thing that happens has happened before, and will happen again,
not once, but countless times.

So far, the doctrine might seem cheerless, and in no respect
more comforting than ordinary materialism such as that of Demo-
critus. But this was only one aspect of it. The course of nature, in
Stoicism as in eighteenth-century theology, was ordained by a
Lawgiver who was also a beneficent Providence. Down to the
smallest detail, the whole was designed to secure certain ends by
natural means. These ends, except in so far as they concern gods
and daemons, are to be found in the life of man. Everything has a
purpose connected with human beings. Some animals are good
to eat, some afford tests of courage; even bed bugs are useful,
since they help us to wake in the morning and not lie in bed too
long. The supreme Power is called sometimes God, sometimes
Zeus. Seneca distinguished this Zeus from the object of popular
belief, who was also real, but subordinate.

God is not separate from the world ; He is the soul of the world,
and each of us contains a part of the Divine Fire. All things are
parts of one single system, which is called Nature; the individual
life is good when it is in harmony with Nature. In one sense, every
life is in harmony with Nature, since it is such as Nature's laws
have caused it to be ; but in another sense a human life is only in
harmony with Nature when the individual will is directed to ends
which are among those of Nature. Virtue consists in a will which
is in agreement with Nature. The wicked, though perforce they
obey God's law, do so involuntarily; in the simile of Cleanthes,
they are like a dog tied to a cart, and compelled to go wherever
it goes.

In the life of an individual man, virtue is the sole good; such
things as health, happiness, possessions, are of no account. Since
virtue resides in the will, everything really good or bad in a man's
life depends only upon himself. He may become poor, but what
of it? He can still be virtuous. A tyrant may put him in prison,
but he can still persevere in living in harmony with Nature. He
may be sentenced to death, but he can die nobly, like Socrates.

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

Other men have power only over externals; virtue, which alone
is truly good, rests entirely with the individual. Therefore every
man has perfect freedom, provided he emancipates himself from
mundane desires. It is only through false judgments that such
desires prevail; the sage whose judgments are true is master of
his fate in all that he values, since no outside force can deprive
him of virtue.

There are obvious logical difficulties about this doctrine. II
virtue is really the sole good, a beneficent Providence must be
solely concerned to cause virtue, yet the laws of Nature have
produced abundance of sinners. If virtue is the sole good, there
can be no reason against cruelty and injustice, since, as the Stoics
are never tired of pointing out, cruelty and injustice afford the
sufferer the best opportunities for the exercise of virtue. If the
world is completely deterministic, natural laws will decide whether
I shall be virtuous or not. If I am wicked, Nature compels me to
be wicked, and the freedom which virtue is supposed to give is
not possible for me.

To a modern mind, it is difficult to feel enthusiastic about a
virtuous life if nothing is going to be achieved by it. We admire a
medical man who risks his life in an epidemic of plague, because
we think illness is an evil, and we hope to diminish its frequency.
But if illness is no evil, the medical man might as well stay com-
fortably at home. To the Stoic, his virtue is an end it itself, not
something that does good. And when we take a longer view, what
is the ultimate outcome? A destruction of the present world by
fire, and then a repetition of the whole process. Could anything
be more devastatingly futile? There may be progress here and
there, for a time, but in the long run there is only recurrence.
When we see something unbearably painful, we hope that in
time such things will cease to happen ; but the Stoic assures us
that what is happening now will happen over and over again.
Providence, which sees the whole, must, one would think, ulti-
mately grow weary through despair.

There goes with this a certain coldness in the Stoic conception
of virtue. Not only bad passions are condemned, but all passions.
The $age does not feel sympathy ; when his wife or hift children
die, he reflects that this event is no obstacle to his own virtue,
and therefore he does not suffer deeply. Friendship, so highly
prized by Epicurus, is all very well, but it must not be carried to

278

STOICISM

the point where your friend's misfortunes can destroy your holy
calm. As for public life, it may be your duty to engage in it, since
it gives opportunities for justice, fortitude, and so on; but you
must not be actuated by a desire to benefit mankind, since the
benefits you can confer — such as peace, or a more adequate supply
of food — are no true benefits, and, in any case, nothing matters
to you except your own virtue. The Stoic is not virtuous in order
to do good, but does good in order to be virtuous. It has not
occurred to him to love his neighbour as himself; love, except in
a superficial sense, is absent from his conception of virtue.

When I say this, I am thinking of love as an emotion, not as a
principle. As a principle, the Stoics preached universal love; this
principle is found in Seneca and his successors, and probably was
taken by them from earlier Stoics. The logic of the school led to
doctrines which were softened by the humanity of its adherents,
who were much better men than they would have been if they
had been consistent. Kant — who resembles them — says that you
must be kind to your brother, not because you are fond of him,
but because the moral law enjoins kindness; I doubt, however,
whether, in private life, he lived down to this precept.

Leaving these generalities, let us come to the history of Stoicism.

Of Zeno,1 only some fragments remain. From these it appears
that he defined God as the fiery mind of the world, that he said
God was a bodily substance, and that the whole universe formed
the substance of God; Tertullian says that, according to Zeno,
God runs through the material world as honey runs through the
honeycomb. According to Diogenes Lacrtius, Zeno held that the
General Law, which is Right Reason, pervading everything, is
the same as Zeus, the Supreme Head of the government of the
universe: God, Mind, Destiny, Zeus, are one thing. Destiny is a
power which moves matter; "Providence" and "Nature" are
other names for it. Zeno does not believe that there should be
temples to the gods: "To build temples there will be no need: for
a temple must not be held a thing of great worth or anything holy.
Nothing can be of great worth or holy which is the work of
builders and mechanics." He seems, like the later Stoics, to have
believed in astrology and divination. Cicero says that he attributed
a divine potency to the stars. Diogenes Laertius says: "All kinds
of divination the Stoics leave valid. There must be divination,

1 For the source* of what follows, sec lie van, l^ter Greek Religion, p. i if.

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

they say, if there is such a thing as Providence. They prove the
reality of the art of divination by a number of cases in which
predictions have come true, as Zeno asserts." Chrysippus is
explicit on this subject.

The Stoic doctrine as to virtue does not appear in the surviving
fragments of Zeno, but seems to have been held by him.

Cleanthes of Assos, the immediate successor of Zeno, is chiefly
notable for two things. First: as we have already seen, he held
that Aristarchus of Samos should be prosecuted for impiety
because he made the sun, instead of the earth, the centre of the
universe. The second thing is his Hymn to Zeus, much of which
might have been written by Pope, or any educated Christian in
the century after Newton. Even more Christian is the short
prayer of Cleanthes:

Lead me, O Zeus, and thou, O Destiny.

Lead thou me on.

To whatsoever task thou sendest me,

Lead thou me on.

I follow fearless, or, if in mistrust

I lag and will not, follow still I must.

Chrysippus (280-207 B-C0» wh° succeeded Cleanthcs, was a
voluminous author, and is said to have written seven hundred and
five books. He made Stoicism systematic and pedantic. He held
that only Zeus, the Supreme Fire, is immortal ; the other gods,
including the sun and moon, are born and die. He is said to have
considered that God has no share in the causation of evil, but it
is not clear how he reconciled this with determinism. Elsewhere
he deals with evil after the manner of Hcraclitus, maintaining that
opposites imply one another, and good without evil is logically
impossible: "There can be nothing more inept than the people
who suppose that good could have existed without the existence
of evil. Good and evil being antithetical, both must needs subsist
in opposition. " In support of this doctrine he appeals to Plato,
not to Heraclitus.

Chrysippus maintained that the good man is always happy and
the bad man unhappy, and that the good man's happiness differs
in no way from God's. On the question whether the soul survives
death, there were conflicting opinions. Clcanthes maintained that
all souls survive until the next universal conflagration (when

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STOICISM

everything is absorbed into God); but Chrysippus maintained
that this is only true of the souls of the wise. He was less exclusively
ethical in his interests than the later Stoics ; in fact, he made logic
fundamental. The hypothetical and disjunctive syllogism, as well
as the word "disjunction," are due to the Stoics; so is the study
of grammar and the invention of "cases" in declension.1 Chry-
sippus, or other Stoics inspired by his work, had an elaborate
theory of knowledge, in the main empirical and based on percep-
tion, though they allowed certain ideas and principles, which
were held to be established by consensus gentium, the agreement
of mankind. But Zeno, as well as the Roman Stoics, regarded all
theoretical studies as subordinate to ethics: he says that philo-
sophy is like an orchard, in which logic is the walls, physics the
trees, and ethics the fruit; or like an egg, in which logic is the
shell, physics the white, and ethics the yolk.2 Chrysippus, it
would seem, allowed more independent value to theoretical
studies. Perhaps his influence accounts for the fact that among the
Stoics there were many men who made advances in mathematics
and other sciences.

Stoicism, after Chrysippus, was considerably modified by two
important men, Panaetius and Posidonius. Panaetius introduced
a considerable element of Platonism, and abandoned materialism.
He was a friend of the younger Scipio, and had an influence on
Cicero, through whom, mainly, Stoicism became known to the
Romans. Posidonius, under whom Cicero studied in Rhodes,
influenced him even more. Posidonius was taught by Panaetius,
who died about 1 10 B.C.

Posidonius (ra, 135-01. 51 B.C.) was a Syrian Greek, and was a
child when the Seleucid empire came to an end. Perhaps it was
his experience of anarchy in Syria that caused him to travel west-
ward, first to Athens, where he imbibed the Stoic philosophy,
and then further afield, to the western parts of the Roman Empire.
44 He saw with his own eyes the sunset in the Atlantic beyond the
verge of the known world, and the African coast over against
Spain, where the trees were full of apes, and the villages of bar-
barous people inland from * Marseilles, where human heads
hanging at the house-doors for trophies were an every-day sight."*
He became a voluminous writer on scientific subjects; indeed,

1 See Berth, Die Stoa, 4th edition, Stuttgart, 1922.

1 Ibid. ' Bcvan, Stoics and Sceptics, p. 88.

28l

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

one of the reasons for his travels was a wish to study the tides,
which could not be done in the Mediterranean. He did excellent
work in astronomy; as we saw in Chapter XXIV his estimate of
the distance of the sun was the best in antiquity.1 He was also a
historian of note — he continued Polybius. But it was chiefly as
an eclectic philosopher that he was known: he combined with
Stoicism much of Plato's teaching, which the Academy, in its
sceptical phase, appeared to have forgotten.

This affinity to Plato is shown in his teaching about the soul
and the life after death. Panaetius had said, as most Stoics did,
that the soul perishes with the body. Posidonius, on the contrary,
says that it continues to live in the air, where, in most cases, it
remains unchanged until the next world-conflagration. There is
no hell, but the wicked, after death, are not so fortunate as the
good, for sin makes the vapours of the soul muddy, and prevents
it from rising as far as the good soul rises. The very wicked stay
near the earth and are reincarnated ; the truly virtuous rise to the
stellar sphere and spend their time watching the stars go round.
They can help other souls; this explains (he thinks) the truth of
astrology. Bevan suggests that, by this revival of Orphic notions
and incorporation of Neo-Pythagorean beliefs, Posidonius may
have paved the way for Gnosticism. He adds, very truly, that
what was fatal to such philosophies as his was not Christianity
but the Coperrucan theory.1 Cleanthes was right in regarding
Aristarchus of Samos as a dangerous enemy.

Much more important historically (though not philosophically)
than the earlier Stoics were the three who were connected with
Rome: Seneca, Epictetus, and Marcus Aurelius — a minister, a
slave, and an emperor, respectively.

Seneca (ca. 3 B.C. to A.D. 65) was a Spaniard, whose father was
a cultivated man living in Rome. Seneca adopted a political career,
and was being moderately successful when he was banished to
Corsica (A.D. 41) by the Emperor Claudius, because he had
incurred the enmity of the Empress Messalina. Claudius's second
wife Agrippina recalled Seneca from exile in A.D. 48, and appointed

1 He estimated that by sailing westward from Cadiz, India could be
teached after 70,000 stades. "This remark was the ultimate foundation
of Columbia's confidence." Tarn, Hellenistic Civilization, p. 249.

1 The above account of Posidonius is mainly based on Chapter II I of
Edwyn Be van's Stoic t and Sceptic*.

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STOICISM

him tutor to her son, aged eleven. Seneca was less fortunate than
Aristotle in his pupil, who was the Emperor Nero. Although, as a
Stoic, Seneca officially despised riches, he amassed a huge fortune,
amounting, it was said, to three hundred million sesterces (about
three million pounds). Much of this he acquired by lending
money in Britain ; according to Dio, the excessive rates of interest
that he exacted were among the causes of revolt in that country.
The heroic Queen Boadicea, if this is true, was heading a rebellion
against capitalism as represented by the philosophic apostle of
austerity.

Gradually, as Nero's excesses grew more unbridled, Seneca fell
increasingly out of favour. At length he \vas accused, justly or
unjustly, of complicity in a widespread conspiracy to murder
Nero and place a new emperor — some said, Seneca himself —
upon the throne. In view of his former services, he was graciously
permitted to commit suicide (A.D. 65).

His end was edifying. At first, on being informed of the Em-
peror's decision, he set about making a will. When told that there
was no time allowed for such a lengthy business, he turned to his
sorrowing family and said: "Never mind, I leave you what is of
far more value than earthly riches, the example of a virtuous life"
— or words to that effect. lie then opened his veins, and summoned
his secretaries to take down his dying words; according to Tacitus,
his eloquence continued to flow during his last moments. His
nephew Lucan, the poet, suffered a similar death at the same time,
and expired reciting his own verses. Seneca was judged, in future
ages, rather hy his admirable precepts than by his somewhat
dubious practice. Several of the Fathers claimed him as a Christian,
and a supposed correspondence between him and Saint Paul was
accepted as genuine by such men as Saint Jerome.

Epictetus (born about A.D. 60, died about A.D. 100) is a very
different type of man, though closely akin as a philosopher. He
was a Greek, originally a slave of Epaphroditus, a freedman of
Nero and then his minister. He was lame— as a result, it was said
of a cruel punishment in his days of slavery. He lived and taught
at Rome until A.D. 90, when the Emperor Domitian, who had no
use for intellectuals, banished all philosophers. Epictetus there-
upon retired to lS?icopolis in Epirus, where, after some years
spent in writing and teaching, he died.

Marcus Aurrlius (A.D. 121-180) was at the other end of the

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

social scale. He was the adopted son of the good Emperor Anto-
ninus Pius, who was his uncle and his father-in-law, whom he
succeeded in A.D. 161, and whose memory he revered. As Emperor,
he devoted himself to Stoic virtue. He had much need of fortitude,
for his reign was beset by calamities — earthquakes, pestilences,
long and difficult wars, military insurrections. His Meditations,
which are addressed to himself, and apparently not intended for
publication, show that he felt his public duties burdensome, and
that he suffered from a great weariness. His only son Commodus,
who succeeded him, turned out to be one of the worst of the
many bad emperors, but successfully concealed his vicious pro-
pensities so long as his father lived. The philosopher's wife
Faustina was accused, perhaps unjustly, of gross immorality, but
he never suspected her, and after her death took trouble about
her deification. He persecuted the Christians, because they re-
jected the State religion, which he considered politically necessary.
In all his actions he was conscientious, but in most he was un-
successful.He is a pathetic figure: in a list of mundane desires to
be resisted, the one that he finds most seductive is the wish to
retire to a quiet country life. For this, the opportunity never
came. Some of his Meditations are dated from the camp, on
distant campaigns, the hardships of which eventually caused his
death.

It is remarkable that Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius are com-
pletely at one on all philosophical questions. This suggests that
although social circumstances affect the philosophy of an age,
individual circumstances have less influence than is sometimes
thought upon the philosophy of an individual. Philosophers are
usually men with a certain breadth of mind, who can largely dis-
count the accidents of their private lives; but even they cannot
rise above the larger good or evil of their time. In bad times they
invent consolations ; in good times their interests are more purely
intellectual.

Gibbon, whose detailed history begins with the vices of Corn-
modus, agrees with most eighteenth-century writers in regarding
the period of the Amonines as a golden age. "If a man were called
upon/' be says, "to fix the period in the history of the world,
during which the condition of the human race was most happy
and prosperous, he would, without hesitation, name that which
elapsed from the death of Domitian to the accession of Com-

STOICISM
•

modus." It is impossible to agree altogether with this judgment.
The evil of slavery involved immense suffering, and was sapping
the vigour of the ancient world. There were gladiatorial shows
and fights with wild beasts, which were intolerably cruel and
must have debased the populations that enjoyed the spectacle.
Marcus Aurelius, it is true, decreed that gladiators should fight
with blunted swords ; but this reform was short-lived, and he did
nothing about fights with wild beasts. The economic system was
very bad; Italy was going out of cultivation, and the population
of Rome depended upon the free distribution of grain from the
provinces. All initiative was concentrated in the Emperor and his
ministers; throughout the vast extent of the Empire, no one.
except an occasional rebellious general, could do anything but
submit. Men looked to the past for what was best; the future,
they felt, would be at best a weariness, and at worst a horror.
When we compare the tone of Marcus Aurelius with that of
Bacon, or Ixrcke, or Condorcet, we see the difference between a
tired and a hopeful age. In a hopeful age, great present evils can
be endured, because it is thought that they will pass; but in a
tired ape even real poods lose their savour. The Stoic ethic suited
the times of Kpictettis and Marcus Aurelius, because its gospel
was one of endurance rather than hope.

Undoubtedly the ape of the Antonines was much better than
any later ape until the Renaissance, from the point of view of the
general happiness. Rut careful study shows that it was not so
prosperous as its architectural remains would lead one to suppose.
Graeco- Roman civilization had made very little impression on
the agricultural regions; it was practically limited to the cities.
Even in the cities, there was a proletariat which suffered very
great poverty, and there was a large slave class. Rostovtseff sums
up a discussion of social and economic conditions in the cities
as follows:1

"This picture of their social conditions is not so attractive as
the picture of their external appearance. The impression conveyed
by our sources is that the splendour of the cities was created by,
and existed for, a rather small minority of their population ; that
the welfare even of this small minority was based on comparatively
weak foundations; that the large masses of the city population

1 Roftovtacff, The Social and Economic History qf the Roman Empire.
P. 17J>.

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

had either a very moderate income or lived in extreme poverty.
In a word, we must not exaggerate the health of the cities: their
external aspect is misleading."

On earth, says Epictetus, we are prisoners, and in an earthly
body. According to Marcus Aurelius, he used to say "Thou art
a little soul bearing about a corpse." Zeus could not make the
body free, but he gave us a portion of his divinity. God is the
father of men, and we are all brothers. We should not say "I am
an Athenian" or "I am a Roman," but "I am a citizen of the
universe." If you were a kinsman of Caesar, you would feel safe;
how much more should you feel safe in being a kinsman of God ?
If we understand that virtue is the only true good, we shall see
that no real evil can befall us.

I must die. But must I die groaning? I must be imprisoned. But
must I whine as well ? I must suffer exile. Can any one then hinder
me from going with a smile, and a good courage, and at peace?
"Tell the secret." I refuse to tell, for this is in my power. "But I
will chain you." What say you, fellow? Chain me? My leg you
will chain — yes, but my will — no, not even Zeus can conquer that.
"I will imprison you." My bit of a body, you mean. "I will behead
you." Why? When did I ever tell you that I was the only man in
the world that could not be beheaded ?

These are the thoughts that those who pursue philosophy
should ponder, these are the lessons they should write down day
by day, in these they should exercise themselves.1

Slaves are the equals of other men, because all alike arc sons
of God.

We must submit to Cod as a good citizen submits to the law.
"The soldier swears to respect no man above Caesar, but we to
respect ourselves first of all."2 "When you appear before the
mighty of the earth, remember that Another looks from above
on what is happening, and that you must please Him rather than
this man."3

Who then is a Stoic ?

Show me a man moulded to the pattern of the judgments that
he utters, in the same way as we call a statue Phidian that is
moulded according to the art of Phidias. Show me one who is
sick and yet happy, in peril and yet happy, dying and yet happy,

1 Quoted from Gates, op. rtf., pp. 225-6,

1 /««/., p. 251. • IUd.9 p. 280.

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STOICISM

in exile and happy, in disgrace and happy. Show him me. By the
gods I would fain see a Stoic. Nay you cannot show me a finished
Stoic; then show me one in the moulding, one who has set his
feet on the path. Do me this kindness, do not grudge an old man
like me a sight I never 'saw till now. What! You think you are
going to show me the Zeus of Phidias or his Athena, that work of
ivory and gold? It is a soul I want; let one of you show me the
soul of a man who wishes to be at one with God, and to blame
God or man no longer, to fail in nothing, to feel no misfortune,
to be free from anger, envy, and jealousy — one who (why wrap
up my meaning?) desires to change his manhood for godhead,
and who in this poor body of his has his purpose set upon com-
munion with God. Show him to me. Nay, you cannot.

Epictctus is never weary of showing how we should deal with
what are considered misfortunes, which he does often by means
of homely dialogues.

Like the Christians, he holds that we should love our enemies.
In general, in common with other Stoics, he despises pleasure,
but there is a kind of happiness that is noi to be despised. "Athens
is beautiful. Yes, but happiness is far more beautiful — freedom
from passion and disturbance, the sense that your affairs depend
on no one" (p. 428). Every man is an actor in a play, in which
God has assigned the parts; it is our duty to perform our part
worthily, whatever it may be.

There is great sincerity and simplicity in the writings which
record the teaching of Kpictetus. (They are written down from
notes by his pupil Arrian.) His morality is lofty and unworldly;
in a situation in which a man's main duty is to resist tyrannical
power, it would be difficult to find anything more helpful. In
some respects, for instance in recognizing the brotherhood of
nian and in teaching the equality of slaves, it is superior to any-
thing to be found in Plato or Aristotle or any philosopher whose
thought is inspired by the City State. The actual world, in the
time of Epictctus, was very inferior to the Athens of Pericles;
but the evil in what existed liberated his aspirations, and his
ideal world is a* superior to that of Plato as his actual world is
inferior to the Athens of the fifth century.

The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius begin by acknowledging
his indebtedness to his grandfather, father, adopted father, various
teachers, and the gods. Some of the obligations he enumerates are

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WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

curious. He learned (he says) from Diognetus not to listen to
miracle- workers; from Rusticus, not to write poetry; from Sextus,
to practise gravity without affectation; from Alexander the
grammarian, not to correct bad grammar in others, but to use
the right expression shortly afterwards; from Alexander the
Platonist, not to excuse tardiness in answering a letter by the
plea of press of business; from his adopted father, not to fall in
love with boys. He owes it to the gods (he continues) that he was
not brought up too long with his grandfather's concubine, and
did not make proof of his virility too soon ; that his children are
neither stupid nor deformed in body; that his wife is obedient,
affectionate, and simple ; and that when he took to philosophy he
did not waste time on history, syllogism, or astronomy.

What is impersonal in the Meditations agrees closely with
Epictetus. Marcus Aurelius is doubtful about immortality, but
says, as a Christian might: "Since it is possible that thou mayst
depart from life this very moment, regulate every act and thought
accordingly." Life in harmony with the universe is what is good;
and harmony with the universe is the same thing as obedience
to the will of God.

"Everything harmonizes with me which is harmonious to thec,
O Universe. Nothing for me is too early or too late, which is in
due time for thee. Everything is fruit to me which thy seasons
bring, O Nature: from thec are ail things, in thee are all things,
to thee all things return. The poet says, Dear city of Cecrops; and
wilt not thou say, Dear city of Zeus?"

One sees that Saint Augustine's City of God was in part taken
over from the pagan Emperor.

Marcus Aureiius is persuaded that God gives every man a
special daemon as his guide — a belief which reappears in the
Christian guardian angel. He finds comfort in the thought of the
universe as a closely-knit whole; it is, he says, one living being,
having one substance and one soul. One of his maxims is: "Fre-
quently consider the connection of all things in the universe."
"Whatever may happen to thee, it was prepared for thee from all
eternity; and the implication of causes was from eternity spinning
the thread of thy being/' There goes with this, in spite of his
position in the Roman State, the Stoic belief in the human race
as one community : "My city and country, so far as 1 am Antoninus,
it Rome, but so far as I am a man, it is the world." There is the

288

STOICISM

difficulty that one finds in all Stoics, of reconciling determinism
with the freedom of the will. "Men exist for the sake of one
another," he says, when he is thinking of his duty as ruler. "The
wickedness of one man does no harm to another," he says on
the same page, when he is thinking of the doctrine that the virtuous
will alone is good. He never inferred that the goodness of one
man does no good to another, and that he would do no harm to
anybody but himself if he were as bad an Emperor as Nero; and
yet this conclusion seems to follow.

"It is peculiar to man," he says, "to love even those who do
wrong. And this happens if, when they do wrong, it occurs to
thee that they are kinsmen, and that they do wrong through
ignorance and unintentionally, and that soon both of you will die;
and above all, that the wrong-doer has done thee no harm, foi
he has not made thy ruling faculty worse than it was before."

And again: "Love mankind, Follow God. . . . And it is
enough to remember that Law rules all."

These passages bring out very clearly the inherent contradictions
in Stoic ethics arid theology. On the one hand, the universe is a
rigidly deterministic single whole, in which all that happens is
the result of previous causes. On the other hand, the individual
will is completely autonomous, and no man can be forced to sin
by outside causes. This is one contradiction and there is a second
closely connected with it. Since the will is autonomous, and the
virtuous will alone is good, one man cannot do either good or
harm to another; therefore benevolence is an illusion. Something
must be said about each of these contradictions.

The contradiction between free will and determinism is one of
those that run through philosophy from early times to our own
day, taking different forms at different times. At present it is the
Stoic form that concerns us.

I think that a Stoic, if we could make him submit to a Socratic
interrogation, would defend his view more or less as follows: The
universe is a single animate Being, having a soul which may also
be called God or Reason. As a whole, this Being is free. God
decided, from the first, that He would act according to fixed
general laws, but He chose such laws as would have the best
results. Sometimes, in particular cases, the results are not wholly
desirable, but this inconvenience is worth enduring, as in human
codes of law, for the sake of the advantage of legislative fixity. A

> tif M'/u«r* /'JMliOoffty 289 K

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

human being is partly fire, partly of lower clay ; in so far as he is
fire (at any rate when it is of the best quality), he is part of God.
When the divine part of a man exercises will virtuously, this will
is part of God's, which is free; therefore in these circumstances
the human will also is free.

This is a good answer up to a point, but it breaks down when

we consider the causes of our volitions. We all know, as a matter

of empirical fact, that dyspepsia, for example, has a bad effect on

a man's virtue, and that, by suitable drugs forcibly administered,

will-power can be destroyed. Take Epictetus's favourite case,

the man unjustly imprisoned by a tyrant, of which there have

been more examples in recent years than at any other period in

human history. Some of these men have acted with Stoic heroism ;

some, rather mysteriously, have not. It has become clear, not

only that sufficient torture will break down almost any man's

fortitude, but also that morphia or cocaine can reduce a man to

docility. The will, in fact, is only independent of the tyrant so

long as the tyrant is unscientific. This is an extreme example;

but the same arguments that exist in favour of determinism in the

inanimate world exist also in the sphere of human volitions in

general. I do not say — I do not think — that these arguments are

conclusive; I say only that they are of equal strength in both cases,

and that there can be no good reason for accepting them in one

region and rejecting them in another. The Stoic, when he is

engaged in urging a tolerant attitude to sinners, will himself urge

that the sinful will is a result of previous causes ; it is only the

virtuous will that seems to him free. This, however, is inconsistent.

Marcus Aurelius explains his own virtue as due to the good

influence of parents, grandparents, and teachers; the good will is

just as much a result of previous causes as the bad will. The

Stoic may say truly that his philosophy is a cause of virtue in

those who adopt it, but it seems that it will not have this desirable

effect unless there is a certain admixture of intellectual error.

The realization that virtue and sin alike are the inevitable result

of previous causes (as the Stoics should have held) is likely to

have a somewhat paralysing effect on moral effort.

I come now to the second contradiction, that the Stoic, while he
preached benevolence, held, in theory, that no man can do either
good or harm to another, since the virtuous will alone is good, and
the virtuous will is independent of outside causes. This contra-

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STOICISM

diction is more patent than the other, and more peculiar to the
Stoics (including certain Christian moralists). The explanation of
their not noticing it is that, like many other people, they had two
systems of ethics, a superfine one for themselves, and an inferior
one for "the lesser breeds without the law." When the Stoic
philosopher is thinking of himself, he holds that happiness and
all other worldly so-called goods are worthless; he even says that
to desire happiness is contrary to nature, meaning that it involves
lack of resignation to the will of God. But as a practical man
administering the Roman Empire, Marcus Aurelius knows per-
fectly well that this son of thing won't do. It is his duty to see
that the grain-ships from Africa duly reach Rome, that measures
are taken to relieve the sufferings caused by pestilence, and that
barbarian enemies are not allowed to cross the frontier. That is
to say, in dealing with those of his subjects whom he does not
regard as Stoic philosophers, actual or potential, he accepts
ordinary mundane standards of what is good or bad. It is by
applying these standards that he arrives at his duty as an adminis-
trator. What is odd is that this duty, itself, is in the higher sphere
of what the Stoic sage should do, although it is deduced from an
ethic which the Stoic sage regards as fundamentally mistaken.

The only reply that I can imagine to this difficulty is one which
is perhaps logically unassailable, but is not very plausible. It
would, I think, be given by Kant, whose ethical system is very
similar to that of the Stoics. True, he might say, there is nothing
good but the good will, but the will is good when it is directed
to certain ends, that, in themselves, are indifferent. It does not
matter whether Mr. A is happy or unhappy, but I, if I am virtuous,
shall act in a way which I believe will make him happy, because
that is what the moral law enjoins. I cannot make Mr. A virtuous,
because his virtue depends only upon himself; but I can do some-
thing towards making him happy, or rich, or learned, or healthy.
The Stoic ethic may therefore be stated as follows: Certain things
are vulgarly considered goods, but this is a mistake; what is good
is a will directed towards securing these false goods for other people.
This doctrine involves no logical contradiction, but it loses all
plausibility if we genuinely believe that what are commonly con-
sidered goods are worthless, for in that case the virtuous will
might just as well be directed to quite other ends.

There is, in fact, an element of sour grapes in Stoicism. We

291

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

can't be happy, but we can be good; let us therefore pretend that,
so long as we are good, it doesn't matter being unhappy. This
doctrine is heroic, and, in a bad world, useful; but it is neither
quite true nor, in a fundamental sense, quite sincere.

Although the main importance of the Stoics was ethical, there
were two respects in which their teaching bore fruit in other fields.
One of these is theory of knowledge ; the other is the doctrine of
natural law and natural rights.

In theory of knowledge, in spite of Plato, they accepted percep-
tion; the deceptiveness of the senses, they held, was really false
judgment, and could be avoided by a little care. A Stoic philo-
sopher, Sphaerus, an immediate disciple of Zcno, was once invited
to dinner by King Ptolemy, who, having heard of this doctrine,
offered him a pomegranate made of wax. The philosopher pro-
ceeded to try to eat it, whereupon the king laughed at him. He
replied that he had felt no certainty of its being a real pomegranate,
but had thought it unlikely that anything inedible would be
supplied at the royal table.1 In this answer he appealed to a Stoic
distinction, between those things which can be known with
certainty on the basis of perception, and those which, on this
basis, are only probable. On the whole, this doctrine was sane and
scientific.

Another doctrine of theirs in theory of knowledge was more
influential, though more questionable. This was their belief in
innate ideas and principles. Greek logic was wholly deductive,
and this raised the question of first premisses. First premisses had
to be, at least in part, general, and no method existed of proving
them. The Stoics held that there are certain principles which are
luminously obvious, and are admitted by all men ; these could be
made, as in Euclid's Elements, the basis of deduction. Innate ideas,
similarly, could be used as the starting-point of definitions. This
point of view was accepted throughout the Middle Ages, and
even by Descartes.

The doctrine of natural right, as it appears in the sixteenth,
seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries, is a revival of a Stoic
doctrine, though with important modifications. It was the Stoics
who distinguished jus naturale from jut gentium. Natural law was
derived from first principles of the kind held to underlie all
general knowledge. By nature, the Stoics held, all human beings
1 Diogenet Laertnu, Vol. VII ,177.
292

STOICISM

are equal. Marcus Aurelius, in his Meditations, favours "a polity
in which there is the same law for all, a polity administered with
regard to equal rights and equal freedom of speech, and a kingly
government which respects most of all the freedom of the
governed.*' This was an ideal which could not be consistently
realized in the Roman Empire, but it influenced legislation, partic-
ularly in improving the status of women and slaves. Christianity
took over this part of Stoic teaching along with much of the rest.
And when at last, in the seventeenth century, the opportunity
came to combat despotism effectually, the Stoic doctrines of
natural law and natural equality, in their Christian dress, acquired
a practical force which, in antiquity, not even an emperor could
to them.

Chapter XXIX

THE ROMAN EMPIRE IN RELATION
TO CULTURE

f • IHE Roman Empire affected the history of culture in various

I more or less separate ways.

JL First: there is the direct effect of Rome on Hellenistic
thought. This is not very important or profound.

Second: the effect of Greece and the East on the western half
of the empire. This was profound and lasting, since it included
the Christian religion.

Third: the importance of the long Roman peace in diffusing
culture and in accustoming men to the idea of a single civilization
associated with a single government.

Fourth: the transmission of Hellenistic civilization to the
Mohammedans, and thence ultimately to western Europe.

Before considering these influences of Rome, a very brief
synopsis of the political history will be useful.

Alexander's conquests had left the western Mediterranean un-
touched ; it was dominated, at the beginning of the third century
B.C., by two powerful City States, Carthage and Syracuse. In the
first and second Punic Wars (264-241 and 218-201), Rome con-
quered Syracuse and reduced Carthage to insignificance. During
the second century, Rome conquered the Macedonian monarchies
— Egypt, it is true, lingered on as a vassal state until the death of
Cleopatra (30 B.C.). Spain was conquered as an incident in the
war with Hannibal; France was conquered by Caesar in the
middle of the first century B.C., and England was conquered
about a hundred years later. The frontiers of the Empire, in its
great days, were the Rhine and Danube in Europe, the Euphrates
in Asia, and the desert in North Africa.

Roman imperialism was, perhaps, at its best in North Africa
(important in Christian history as the home of Saint Cyprian and
Saint Augustine), where large areas, uncultivated before and after
Roman times, were rendered fertile and supported populous cities.
The Roman Empire was on the whole stable and peaceful for
over two hundred years, from the accession of Augustus (30 B.C.)
until the disasters of the third century.

294

THE ROMAN EMPIRE IN RELATION TO CULTURE

Meanwhile the constitution of the Roman State had undergone
important developments. Originally, Rome was a small City
State, not very unlike those of Greece, especially such as, like
Sparta, did not depend upon foreign commerce. Kings, like those
of Homeric Greece, had been succeeded by an aristocratic republic.
Gradually, while the aristocratic element, embodied in the Senate,
remained powerful, democratic elements were added ; the resulting
compromise was regarded by Panaetius the Stoic (whose views
are reproduced by Polybius and Cicero) as an ideal combination
of monarchical, aristocratic, and democratic elements. But con-
quest upset the precarious balance; it brought immense new
wealth to the senatorial class, and, in a slightly lesser degree, to
the "knights," as the upper middle class were called. Italian
agriculture, which had been in the hands of small farmers growing
grain by their own labour and that of their families, came to be a
matter of huge estates belonging to the Roman aristocracy, where
vines and olives were cultivated by slave labour. The result was
the virtual omnipotence of the Senate, which was used shamelessly
for the enrichment of individuals, without regard for the interests
of the State or the welfare of its subjects.

A democratic movement, inaugurated by the Gracchi in the
latter half of the second century B.C., led to a series of civil wars,
and finally — as so often in Greece — to the establishment of a
4 'tyranny." It is curious to see the repetition, on such a vast scale,
of developments which, in Greece, had been confined to minute
areas. Augustus, the heir and adopted son of Julius Caesar, who
reigned from 30 B.C. to A.D. 14, put an end to civil strife, and (with
few exceptions) to external wars of conquest. For the first time
since the beginnings of Greek civilization, the ancient world
enjoyed peace and security.

Two things had ruined the Greek political system: first, the
claim of each city to absolute sovereignty; second, the bitter and
bloody strife between rich and poor within most cities. After the
conquest of Carthage and the Hellenistic kingdoms, the first of
these causes no longer afflicted the world, since no effective
resistance to Rome was possible. But the second cause remained.
In the civil wars, one general would proclaim himself the champion
of the Senate, the other of the people. Victory went to the one
who offered the highest rewards to the soldiers. The soldiers
wanted not only pay and plunder, but grants of land; therefore

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

each civil war ended in the formally legal expulsion of many
existing landholders, who were nominally tenants of the State, to
make room for the legionaries of the victor. The expenses of the
war, while in progress, were defrayed by executing rich men and
confiscating their property. This system, disastrous as it was,
could not easily be ended ; at last, to every one's surprise, Augustus
was so completely victorious that no competitor remained to
challenge his claim to power.

To the Roman world, the discovery that the period of civil
war was ended came as a surprise, which was a cause of rejoicing
to all except a small senatorial party. To every one else, it was a
profound relief when Rome, under Augustus, at last achieved the
stability and order which Greeks and Macedonians had sought in
vain, and which Rome, before Augustus, had also failed to pro-
duce. In Greece, according to Rostovtseff, republican Rome had
"introduced nothing new, except pauperization, bankruptcy, and
a stoppage of all independent political activity/'1

The reign of Augustus was a period of happiness for the Roman
Empire. The administration of the provinces was at last organized
with some regard to the welfare of the population, and not on a
purely predatory system. Augustus was not only officially deified
after his death, but was spontaneously regarded as a god in various
provincial cities. Poets praised him, the commercial classes found
the universal peace convenient, and even the Senate, which he
treated with all the outward forms of respect, lost no opportunity
of heaping honours and offices on his head.

But although the world was happy, some savour had gone out
of life, since safety had been preferred to adventure. In early times,
every free Greek had had the opportunity of adventure; Philip
and Alexander put an end to this state of affairs, and in the
Hellenistic world only Macedonian dynasts enjoyed anarchic
freedom. The Greek world lost its youth, and became either
cynical or religious. The hope of embodying ideals in earthly
institutions faded, and with it the best men lost their zest. Heaven,
for Socrates, was a place where he could go on arguing; for
philosophers after Alexander, it was something more different
from their existence here below.

In Rome, a similar development came later, and in a less painful
form. Rome was not conquered, as Greece was, but had, on the
1 History of th* Ancient World. Vol. II, p. 255.
2Q6

THE ROMAN EMPIRE IN RELATION TO CULTURE

contrary, the stimulus of successful imperialism. Throughout the
period of the civil wars, it was Romans who were responsible for
the disorders. The Greeks had not secured peace and order by
submitting to the Macedonians, whereas both Greeks and Romans
secured both by submitting to Augustus. Augustus was a Roman,
to whom most Romans submitted willingly, not only on account
of his superior power; moreover he took pains to disguise the
military origin of his government, and to base it upon decrees of
the Senate. The adulation expressed by the Senate was, no doubt,
largely insincere, but outside the senatorial class no one felt
humiliated.

The mood of the Romans was like that of zjeune homtne range
in nineteenth-century France, who, after a life of amatory ad-
venture, settles down to a marriage of reason. This mood, though
contented, is not creative. The great poets of the Augustan age
had been formed in more troubled times; Horace fled at Philippi,
and both he and Virgil lost their farms in confiscations for the
benefit of victorious soldiers. Augustus, for the sake of stability,
set to work, somewhat insincerely, to restore ancient piety, and
was therefore necessarily rather hostile to free inquiry. The
Roman world began to become stereotyped, and the process
continued under later emperors.

The immediate successors of Augustus indulged in appalling
cruelties towards Senators and towards possible competitors for
the purple. To some extent, the misgovernment of this period
extended to the provinces; but in the main the administrative
machine created by Augustus continued to function fairly well.

A better period began with the accession of Trajan in A.D, 98,
and continued until the death of Marcus Aurelius in A.D. 180.
During this time, the government of the Empire was as good as
any despotic government can be. The third century, on the con-
trary, was one of appalling disaster. The army realized its power,
made and unmade emperors in return for cash and the promise
of a life without warfare, and ceased, in consequence, to be an
effective fighting force. The barbarians, from north and east,
invaded and plundered Roman territory. The army, preoccupied
with private gain and civil discord, was incompetent in defence.
The whole fiscal system broke down, since there was an immense
diminution of resources and, at the same time, a vast increase of
expenditure in unsuccessful war and in bribery of the army.

297

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

Pestilence, in addition to war, greatly diminished the population.
It seemed as if the Empire was about to fall.

This result was averted by two energetic men, Diocletian (A.D.

286-305) and Constantine, whose undisputed reign lasted from

A.D. 312 to 337. By them the Empire was divided into an eastern

and western half, corresponding, approximately, to the division

between the Greek and Latin languages. By Constantine the

capital of the eastern half was established at Byzantium, to which

he gave the new name of Constantinople. Diocletian curbed the

army, for a while, by altering its character ; from his time onwards,

the most effective fighting forces were composed of barbarians,

chiefly German, to whom all the highest commands were open.

This was obviously a dangerous expedient, and early in the fifth

century it bore its natural fruit. The barbarians decided that it

was more profitable to fight for themselves than for a Roman

master. Nevertheless it served its purpose for over a century.

Diocletian's administrative reforms were equally successful for a

time, and equally disastrous in the long run. The Roman system

was to allow local self-government to the towns, and to leave

their officials to collect the taxes, of which only the total amount

due from any one town was fixed by the centra) authorities.

This system had worked well enough in prosperous times, but

now, in the exhausted state of the empire, the revenue demanded

was more than could be borne without excessive hardship. The

municipal authorities were personally responsible for the taxes,

and fled to escape payment. Diocletian compelled well-to-do

citizens to accept municipal office, and made flight illegal. From

similar motives he turned the rural population into serfs, tied to

the soil and forbidden to migrate. This system was kept on by

later emperors.

Constantine's most important innovation was the adoption of
Christianity as the State religion, apparently because a large
proportion of the soldiers were Christian.1 The result of this was
that when, during the fifth century, the Germans destroyed the
Western Empire, its prestige caused them to adopt the Christian
religion, thereby preserving for western Europe so much of
ancient civilization as had been absorbed by the Church.

The development of the territory assigned to the eastern half
of the Empire was different. The Eastern Empire, though con-

1 Sec Rottovtteff, Hittorv of the Ancient World, Vol. II, p. 332.

298

THE ROMAN EMPIRE IN RELATION TO CULTURE

tinually diminishing in extent (except for the transient conquests
of Justinian in the sixth century), survived until 1453, when
Constantinople was conquered by the Turks. But most of what
had been Roman provinces in the east, including also Africa and
Spain in the west, became Mohammedan. The Arabs, unlike the
Germans, rejected the religion, but adopted the civilization, of
those whom they had conquered. The Eastern Empire was Greek,
not Latin, in its civilization; accordingly, from the seventh to the
eleventh centuries, it was it and the Arabs who preserved Greek
literature and whatever survived of Greek, as opposed to Latin,
civilization. From the eleventh century onward, at first through
Moorish influences, the west gradually recovered what it had lost
of the Grecian heritage.

I come now to the four ways in which the Roman Empire
affected the history of culture.

I. The direct effect of Rome on Greek thought. This begins in
the second century B.C., with two men, the historian Polybius,
and the Stoic philosopher Panaetius. The natural attitude of the
Greek to the Roman was one of contempt mingled with fear;
the Greek felt himself more civilized, but politically less powerful.
If the Romans were more successful in politics, that only showed
that politics is an ignoble pursuit. The average Greek of the
second century B.C. was pleasure- loving, quick-witted, clever in
business, and unscrupulous in all things. There were, however,
still men of philosophic capacity. Some of these — notably the
sceptics, such as Carneades — had allowed cleverness to destroy
seriousness. Some, like the Epicureans and a section of the Stoics,
had withdrawn wholly into a quiet private life. But a few, with more
insight than had been shown by Aristotle in relation to Alexander,
realized that the greatness of Rome was due to certain merits
which were lacking among the Greeks.

The historian Polybius, born in Arcadia about 200 B.C., was
sent to Rome as a prisoner, and there had the good fortune to
become the friend of the younger Scipio, whom he accompanied
on many of his campaigns. It was uncommon for a Greek to know
Latin, though most educated Romans knew Greek; the circum-
stances of Polybius, however, led him to a thorough familiarity
with Latin, lie wrote, for the benefit of the Greeks, the history of
ihc later Punic Wars, which enabled Rome to conquer the world.

299

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

His admiration of the Roman constitution was becoming out of
date while he wrote, but until his time it had compared very
favourably, in stability and efficiency, with the continually
changing constitutions of most Greek cities. The Romans naturally
read his history with pleasure; whether the Greeks did so is
more doubtful.

Panaetius the Stoic has been already considered in the preceding
chapter. He was a friend of Polybius, and, like him, a protege of
the younger Scipio. While Scipio lived, he was frequently in
Rome, but after Scipio's death in 129 B.C. he stayed in Athens
as head of the Stoic school. Rome still had, what Greece had lost,
the hopefulness connected with the opportunity for political
activity. Accordingly the doctrines of Panaetius were more
political, and less akin to those of the Cynics, than were those of
earlier Stoics. Probably the admiration of Plato felt by cultivated
Romans influenced him in abandoning the dogmatic narrowness
of his Stoic predecessors. In the broader form given to it by him
and by his successor Posidonius, Stoicism strongly appealed to
the more serious among the Romans.

At a later date, Epictetus, though a Greek, lived most of his life
in Rome. Rome supplied him with most of his illustrations ; he is
always exhorting the wise man not to tremble in the presence of
the Emperor. We know the influence of Epictetus on Marcus
Aurelius, but his influence on the Greeks is hard to trace.

Plutarch (ca. A.D. 46-120), in his Lives of the Noble Grecians and
Romans, traced a parallelism between the most eminent men of
the two countries. He spent a considerable time in Rome, and was
honoured by the Emperors Hadrian and Trajan. In addition to
his Lives, he wrote numerous works on philosophy, religion,
natural history, and morals. His Lives are obviously concerned
to reconcile Greece and Rome in men's thoughts.

On the whole, apart from such exceptional men, Rome acted
as a blight on the Greek-speaking part of the Empire. Thought
and art alike declined. Until the end of the second century A.D.,
life, for the well-to-do, was pleasant and easy-going; there was no
incentive to strenuousness, and little opportunity for great achieve-
ment. The recognized schools of philosophy— the Academy, the
Peripatetics, the Epicureans, and the Stoics — continued to exist
until they were closed by Justinian. None of these, however,
showed any vitality throughout the time after Marcus Aurelius,

joo

THE ROMAN EMPIRE IN RELATION TO CULTURE

except the Neoplatonists in the third century A.D., whom we shall
consider in the next chapter; and these men were hardly at all
influenced by Rome. The Latin and Greek halves of the Empire
became more and more divergent; the knowledge of Greek
became rare in the west, and after Constantine Latin, in the east,
survived only in law and in the army.

II. The influence of Greece and the East on Rome. There are here
two very different things to consider: first, the influence of Hellenic
art and literature and philosophy on the most cultivated Romans;
second, the spread of non-Hellenic religions and superstitions
throughout the Western world.

(i) When the Romans first came in contact with Greeks, they
became aware of themselves as comparatively barbarous and ur-
couth. The Greeks were immeasurably their superiors in many
ways: in manufacture and in the technique of agriculture ; in the
kinds of knowledge that are necessary for a good official; in con-
versation and the art of enjoying life; in art and literature and
philosophy. The only tilings in which the Romans were superior
were military tactics and social cohesion. The relation of the
Romans to the Creeks was something like that of the Prussians
to the French in 1814 and 1815; but this latter was temporary,
whereas the other lasted a long time. After the Punic Wars, young
Romans conceived an admiration for the Greeks. They learnt the
Greek language, they copied Greek architecture, they employed
Greek sculptors. The Roman gods were identified with the gods
of Greece. The Trojan origin of the Romans was invented to
make a connection with the Homeric myths. Latin poets adopted
Greek metres, Latin philosophers took over Greek theories. To
the end, Rome was culturally parasitic on Greece. The Romans
invented no art forms, constructed no original system of philo-
sophy, and made no scientific discoveries. They made good roads,
systematic legal codes, and efficient armies; for the rest they
looked to Greece,

The Hellenizing of Rome brought with it a certain softening of
manners, abhorrent to the elder Cato. Until the Punic Wars, the
Romans had been a bucolic people, with the virtues and vices ot
farmers: austere, industrious, brutal, obstinate, and stupid. Their
family life had been stable and solidly built on the patria potestas;
women ;md young people were completely subordinated. All this

301

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

•

changed with the influx of sudden wealth. The small farms dis-
appeared, and were gradually replaced by huge estates on which
slave labour was employed to carry out new scientific kinds of
agriculture. A great class of traders grew up, and a large number
of men enriched by plunder, like the nabobs in eighteenth-century
England. Women, who had been virtuous slaves, became free and
dissolute; divorce became common; the rich ceased to have
children. The Greeks, who had gone through a similar develop-
ment centuries ago, encouraged, by their example, what historians
call the decay of morals. Even in the most dissolute times of the
Empire, the average Roman still thought of Rome as the upholder
of a purer ethical standard against the decadent corruption of
Greece.

The cultural influence ot Greece on the Western Kmpire
diminished rapidly from the third century A.D. onwards, chiefly
because culture in general decayed. For this there were many
causes, but one in particular must be mentioned. In the last times
of the Western Empire, the government was more undisguised!}*
a military tyranny than it had been, and the army usually selected
a successful general as emperor; but the army, even in its highest
ranks, was no longer composed of cultivated Romans, but of semi-
barbarians from the frontier. These rough soldiers had no use for
culture, and regarded the civilized citizens solely as sources of
revenue. Private persons were too impoverished to support much
in the way of education, and the State considered education un-
necessary. Consequently, in the West, only a few men of excep-
tional learning continued to read Greek.

(2) Non-Hellenic religion and superstition, on the contrary,
acquired, as time went on, a firmer and firmer hold on the West.
We have already seen how Alexander's conquests introduced the
Greek world to the beliefs of Babylonians, Persians, and Egyptians.
Similarly the Roman conquests made the Western world familiar
with these doctrines, and also with those of Jews and Christians.
I shall consider what concerns the Jews anJ Christians at a later
stage; for the present, I shall confine myself as far as possible to
pagan superstitions.1

In Rome every sect and every prophet was represented, and
sometimes won favour in the highest government circles. Lucian,
who stood for sane scepticism in spite of the credulity of his age.
* See Cumom, Oriental Religion* in Roman Paganism.

THE ROMAN EMPIRE IN RELATION TO CULTURE

tcfls an amusing story, generally accepted as broadly true, about
a prophet and miracle-worker called Alexander the Paphlagonian.
This man healed the sick and foretold the future, with excursions
into blackmail. His fame reached the ears of Marcus Aurelius,
then fighting the Marcomanni on the Danube. The Emperor
consulted him as to how to win the war, and was told that if he
threw two lions into the Danube a great victory would result. He
followed the advice of the seer, but it was the Marcomanni who
won the great victor)'. In spite of this mishap, Alexander's fame
continued to grow. A prominent Roman of consular rank, Ruti-
lianus, after consulting him on many points, at last sought his
advice as to the choice of a wife. Alexander, like Endymion, had
enjoyed the favours of the moon, and by her had a daughter,
whom the oracle recommended to Rutilianus. "Rutilianus, who
was at the time sixty years old, at once complied with the divine
injunction, and celebrated his marriage by sacrificing whole
hecatombs to his celestial mother-in-law."1

More important than the career of Alexander the Paphlagonian
was the reign of the Krnperor Klagabalus or Heliogabalus (A.D. 218-
22), who was, until his elevation by the choice of the army, a
Syrian priest of the sun. In his slow progress from Syria to Rome,
he was preceded by his portrait, sent as a present to the Senate.
"He was drawn in his sacerdotal robes of silk and gold, after the
loose flowing fashion of the Medes and Phoenicians; his head
was covered with a lofty tiara, his numerous collars and bracelets
were adorned with gems of inestimable value. His eyebrows were
tinged with black, and his cheeks painted with an artificial red
and white. The grave senators confessed with a sigh, that, after
having long experienced the stern tyranny of their own country-
men, Rome was at length humbled beneath the effeminate luxury
of Oriental despotism."1 Supported by a large section in the army,
he proceeded, with fanatical zeal, to introduce in Rome the
religious practices of the East ; his name was that of the sun-god
worshipped at Emesa, where he had been chief priest. His mother,
or grandmother, who was the real ruler, perceived that he had
Kone too far, and deposed him in favour of her nephew Alexander
(222-35), who«e Oriental proclivities were more moderate. The
mixture of creeds that wa$ possible in his day was illustrated in

• Brnn, Tht Check PMlmofhen. Vol. II, p. 226.

• Gibbon, chap. vi.

303

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

his private chapel, in which he placed the statues of Abraham
Orpheus, Apollonius of Tyana, and Christ.
. The religion of Mithras, which was of Persian origin, was a
close competitor of Christianity, especially during the latter half
of the third century A.D. The emperors, who were making desperate
attempts to control the army, felt that religion might give a much
needed stability; but it would have to be one of the new religions,
since it was these that the soldiers favoured. The cult was intro-
duced at Rome, and had much to commend it to the military mind.
Mithras was a sun-god, but not so effeminate as his Syrian col-
league ; he was a god concerned with war, the great war between
good and evil which had been part of the Persian creed since
Zoroaster. Rostovtseff1 reproduces a bas-relief representing his
worship, which was found in a subterranean sanctuary at Heddern-
heim in Germany, and shows that his disciples must have been
numerous among the soldiers, not only in the East, but in the
West also.

Constantine's adoption of Christianity was politically successful,
whereas earlier attempts to introduce a new religion failed; but
the earlier attempts were, from a governmental point of view, very
similar to his. All alike derived their possibility of success from
the misfortunes and weariness of the Roman world. The traditional
religions of Greece and Rome were suited to men interested in the
terrestrial world, and hopeful of happiness on earth. Asia, with a
longer experience of despair, had evolved more successful anti-
dotes in the form of other-worldly hopes; of all these, Christianity
was the most effective in bringing consolation. But Christianity,
by the time it became the State religion, had absorbed much from
Greece, and transmitted this, along with the Judaic element, to
succeeding ages in the West.

III. The unification of government and culture. We owe it first

to Alexander and then to Rome that the achievements of the great

age of Greece were not lost to the world, like those of the Minoan

age. In the fifth century B.C., a Jenghiz Khan, if one had happened

to arise, could have wiped out all that was important in the

Hellenic world; Xerxes, with a little more competence, might

have made Greek civilization very greatly inferior to what it

became after he was repulsed. Consider the period from Aeschylus

1 History of the Ancient World, Vol. II, p. 343.

304

THE ROMAN EMPIRE IN RELATION TO CULTURE

to Plato: all that was done in this time was done by a minority
of the population of a few commercial cities. These cities, as the
future showed, had no great capacity for withstanding foreign
conquest, but by an extraordinary stroke of good fortune their
conquerors, Macedonian and Roman, were Philhellenes, and did
not destroy what they conquered, as Xerxes or Carthage would
have done. The fact that we are acquainted with what was done
by the (1 reeks in an and literature and philosophy and science
is due to the stability introduced by Western conquerors who had
the good sense to admire the civilization which they governed
but did their utmost to preserve.

In certain respects, political and ethical, Alexander and the
Romans were the causes of a better philosophy than any that was
professed by Greeks in their days of freedom. The Stoics, as we
have seen, believed in the brotherhood of man, and did not confine
their sympathies to the Greeks. The long dominion of Rome
accustomed men to the idea of a single civilization under a single
government, li'e are aware that there were important parts of the
world which were not subject to Rome — India and China, more
especially. But to the Roman it seemed that outside the Empire there
were only more or less barbarian tribes, who might be conquered
whenever it should be worth while to make the effort. Essentially
and in idea, the empire, in the minds of the Romans, was world-
wide. This conception descended to the Church, which was
"Catholic" in spite of Buddhists, Confucians, and (later) Moham-
medans. tSVruriis judicat orbis terrarum is a maxim taken over by
ihr Church from the later Stoics; it owes its appeal to the apparent
uimcr&ality of the Roman Empire. Throughout the Middle Ages,
after the time of Charlemagne, the Church and the Holy Roman
Kmpirt were world-xude in idea, although everybody knew that
they were not so in fact. The conception of one human family,
one Catholic religion, one universal culture, and one world-wide
State, has haunted men's thoughts ever since its approximate
realization by Rome.

The part played by Rome in enlarging the area of civilization
was of immense importance. Northern Italy, Spain, France, and
parts of western Germany, were civilized as a result of forcible
conquest by the Roman legions. All these regions proved them-
selves just as capable of a high level of culture as Rome itself.
In the last days of the Western Empire, Gaul produced men who

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

were at least the equals of their contemporaries in regions of
older civilization. It was owing to the diffusion of culture by
Rome that the barbarians produced only a temporary eclipse,
not a permanent darkness. It may be argued that the quality of
civilization was never again as good as in the Athens of Pericles;
but in a world of war and destruction, quantity is, in the long
run, almost as important as quality, and quantity was due to
Rome.

IV. The Mohammedans as vehicles of Hellenism. In the seventh
century, the disciples of the Prophet conquered Syria, Egypt, and
North Africa; in the following century, they conquered Spain.
Their victories were easy, and the fighting was slight. Except
possibly during the first few years, they were not fanatical;
Christians and Jews were unmolested so long as they paid the
tribute. Very soon the Arabs acquired the civilization of the
Eastern Empire, but with the hopefulness of a rising polity
instead of the weariness of decline. Their learned men read
Greek authors in translation, and wrote commentaries. Aristotle's
reputation is mainly due to them ; in antiquity, he was not regarded
as on a level with Plato.

It is instructive to consider some of the words that we derive
from Arabic, such as: algebra, alcohol, alchemy, alembic, alkali,
azimuth, zenith. With the exception of "alcohol"— which meant,
not a drink, but a substance used in chemistr —these words
would give a good picture of some of the things we owe to the
Arabs. Algebra had been invented by the Alexandrian Greeks,
but was carried further by the Mohammedans. "Alchemy/
"alembic," "alkali" are words connected with the attempt to
turn base metals into gold, which the Arabs took over from the
Greeks, and in pursuit of which they appealed to Greek philo-
sophy.1 "Azimuth" and "zenith" are astronomical terms, chiefly
useful to the Arabs in connection with astrology.

The etymological method conceals what we owe to the Arabs
as regards knowledge of Greek philosophy, because, when it was
again studied in Europe, the technical term* required were taken
from Greek or Latin. In philosophy, the Arabs were better as
commentators than as original thinkers. Their importance, for us,

1 Sec Alchemy, Child of Greek Philtxaphy, by Arthur John Hopkin*,
Columbia, 1934.

306

THE ROMAN EMPIRE IN RELATION TO CULTURE

is that they, and not the Christians, were the immediate inheritors
of those parts of the Greek tradition which only the Eastern
Empire had kept alive. Contact with the Mohammedans, in Spain,
and to a lesser extent in Sicily, made the West aware of Aristotle;
also ot Arabic numerals, algebra, and chemistry. It was this
contact that began the revival of learning in the eleventh century,
leading to the Scholastic philosophy. It was later, from the
thirteenth century onward, that the study of Greek enabled men
to go direct to the works of Plato and Aristotle and other Greek
writers of antiquity. Rut if the Arabs had not preserved the
tradition, the men of the Renaissance might not have suspected
how much was to he gained by the revival of classical learning.

307

Chapter XXX
PLOTINUS

PLOTINUS (A.D. 204-70), the founder of Neoplatonism, is
the last of the great philosophers of antiquity. His life is
almost coextensive with one of the most disastrous periods
in Roman history. Shortly before his birth, the army had become
conscious of its power, and had adopted the practice of choosing
emperors in return for monetary rewards, and assassinating them
afterwards to give occasion for a renewed sale of the empire.
These preoccupations unfitted the soldiers for the defence of the
frontier, and permitted vigorous incursions of Germans from the
north and Persians from the Hast. War and pestilence diminished
the population of the empire by about a third, while increased
taxation and diminished resources caused financial ruin in even
those provinces to which no hostile forces penetrated. The cities,
which had been the bearers of culture, were especially hard hit ;
substantial citizens, in large numbers, fled to escape the tax*
collector. It was not till after the death of Plotinus that order was
re-established and the empire temporarily saved by the vigorous
measures of Diocletian and Constantine.

Of all this there is no mention in the works of Plotinus. He
turned aside from the spectacle of ruin and misery in the actual
world, to contemplate an eternal world ot goodness and beauty.
In this he was in harmony with all the most serious men of his
age. To all of them, Christians and pagans alike, the world of
practical affairs seemed to offer no hope, and only the Other
World seemed worthy of allegiance. To the Christian, the Other
World was the Kingdom of Heaven, to be enjoyed after death;
to the Platonist, it was the eternal world of ideas, the real world
as opposed to that of illusory appearance. Christian theologians
combined these points of view, and embodied much of the philo-
sophy of Plotinus. Dean Inge, in his invaluable book on Plotinus,
rightly emphasizes what Christianity owes to him. "Platonism,"
he says, "is part of the vital structure of Christian theology, with
which no other philosophy, I venture to say. can work without
friction/' There is, he says, an "utter impossibility of excising
Platonism from Christianity without tearing Christianity to

308

PLOTINUS

pieces." He points out that Saint Augustine speaks of Plato's
system as "the most pure and bright in all philosophy/' and of
Plotinus as a man in whom "Plato lived again," and who, if he
had lived a little later, would have "changed a few words and
phrases and become Christian." Saint Thomas Aquinas, according
to Dean Inge, "is nearer to Plotinus than to the real Aristotle."

Plotinus, accordingly, is historically important as an influence
in moulding the Christianity of the Middle Ages and of Catholic
theology. The historian, in speaking of Christianity, has to be
careful to recognize the very great changes that it has undergone,
and the variety of forms that it may assume even at one epoch.
The Christianity of the Synoptic Gospels is almost innocent of
metaphysics. The Christianity of modern America, in this respect,
is like primitive Christianity; Platonism is alien to popular thought
and feeling in the United States, and most American Christians
are much mere concerned with duties here on earth, and with
social progress in the everyday world, than with the transcendental
hopes that consoled men when everything terrestrial inspired
despair. I am not speaking of any change of dogma, but of a
difference of emphasis and interest. A modern Christian, unless
he realizes how great this difference is, will fail to understand the
Christianity of the past. We, since our study is historical, are con-
cerned with the effective beliefs of past centuries, and as to these
it is impossible to disagree with what Dean Inge says on the
influence of Plato and Plotinus.

Plotinus, however, is not only historically important. He repre-
sents, better than any other philosopher, an important type of
theory. A philosophical system may be judged important for
various different kinds of reasons. The first and most obvious is
that we think it may be true. Not many students of philosophy
at the present time would feel this about Plotinus; Dean Inge is,
in this respect, a rare exception. But truth is not the only merit
that a mctaphysic can possess. It may have beauty, and this is
certainly to be found in Plotinus; there are passages that remind
one of the later cantos of Dante's Paradise, and of almost nothing
else in literature. Now and again, his descriptions of the eternal

world of glory

To our high-wrought fantasy present
That undisturbed song of pure concent
Aye sung before the sapphire-coloured throne
To Him that sits thereon.
309

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

Again, a philosophy may be important because it expresses well
what men are prone to believe in certain moods or in certain cir-
cumstances. Uncomplicated joy and sorrow is not matter for
philosophy, but rather for the simpler kinds of poetry and music.
Only joy and sorrow accompanied by reflection on the universe
generate metaphysical theories. A man may be a cheerful pessimist
or a melancholy optimist. Perhaps Samuel Butler may serve as
an example of the first; Plotinus is an admirable example of the
second. In an age such as that in which he lived, unhappiness is
immediate and pressing, whereas happiness, if attainable at all,
must be sought by reflection upon things that are remote from the
impressions of sense. Such happiness has in it always an element
of strain ; it is very unlike the simple happiness of a child. And
since it is not derived from the everyday world, but from thought
and imagination, it demands a power of ignoring or despising the
life of the senses. It is, therefore, not those who enjoy instinctive
happiness who invent the kinds of metaphysical optimism that
depend upon belief in the reality of a super-sensible world. Among
the men who have been unhappy in a mundane sense, but reso-
lutely determined to find a higher happiness in the world of
theory, Plotinus holds a very high place.

Nor are his purely intellectual merits by any means to be
despised. He has, in many respects, clarified Plato's teaching; he
has developed, with as much consistency as possible, the type of
theory advocated by him in common with many others. His
arguments against materialism are good, and his whole conception
of the relation of soul and body is clearer than that of Plato or
Aristotle.

Like Spinoza, he has a certain kind of moral purity and loftiness,
which is very impressive. He is always sincere, never shrill or
censorious, invariably concerned to tell the reader, as simply as
he can, what he believes to be important. Whatever one may think
of him as a theoretical philosopher, it is impossible not to love
him as a man.

The life of Plotinus is known, so far as it is known, through the
biography written by his friend and disciple Porphyry, a Semite
whose real name was Malchus. There are, however, miraculous
elements in this account, which maker it difficult to place a complete
reliance upon its more credible portions.
Plotinus considered his spatio-temporal appearance unim~

310

PLOTINU8

portant, and was loath to talk about the accidents of his historical
existence. He stated, however, that he was born in Egypt, and it
is known that as a young man he studied in Alexandria, where
he lived until the age of thirty-nine, and where his teacher was
Ammonius Saccas, often regarded as the founder of Neoplatonism.
He then joined the expedition of the Emperor Gordian III against
the Persians, with the intention, it is said, of studying the religions
of the East. The Emperor was still a youth, and was murdered by
the army, as was at that time the custom. This occurred during
his campaign in Mesopotamia in A.D. 244. Plotinus thereupon
abandoned his oriental projects and settled in Rome, where
he soon began to teach. Among his hearers were many influen-
tial men, and he was favoured by the Emperor Gallienus.1 At
one time he formed a project of founding Plato's Republic in
Campania, and building for the purpose a new city to be called
Platonopolis. The Kmperor, at first, was favourable, but ulti-
mately withdrew his permission. It may seem strange that there
should be room for a new city so near Rome, but probably by that
time the region was malarial, as it is now, but had not been earlier.
He wrote nothing until the age of forty-nine; after that, he wrote
much. His works \u-re edited and arranged by Porphyry, who
was more Pythagorean than Plotinus, and caused the Neoplatonist
school to become more supernaturilist than it would have been
if it had followed Plotinns more faithfully.

The respect of Plotinus for Plato is very great; Plato is usually
alluded to as "He." In general, the "blessed ancients" are treated
with reverence, but this reverence does not extend to the atomists.
The Stoics and Epicureans, being still active, are controverted,
the Stoics only for their materialism, the Epicureans for every
part of their philosophy. Aristotle plays a larger part than appears,
as borrowings from him are often unacknowledged. One feels the
influence of Parmenides at many points.

The Plato of Plotinus is not so full-blooded as the real Plato.

• Concerning Gailienus, Gibbon remarks : "He was a master of several
curieTbttl JL ^-nccs, a ready orator and - e egant poe^i i*dftd
excellent cook, and most contemptible pnnce. When the
iet of the St,te required his presence and attention he
convention with the philosopher Plotmus, wasting hi,
or licentious pleasure., preparing his .motto. , » the
in myU or eliciting a place in the Areopagus of Athens
'chap. x).

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

The theory of ideas, the mystical doctrines of the Phaedo and of
Book VI of the Republic, and the discussion of love in the Sym-
posium, make up almost the whole of Plato as he appears in the
Emieads (as the books of Plotinus are called). The political interests,
the search for definitions of separate virtues, the pleasure in
mathematics, the dramatic and affectionate appreciation of indi-
viduals, and above all the playfulness of Plato, are wholly absent
from Plotinus. Plato, as Carlyle said, is "very much at his ease
in Zion"; Plotinus, on the contrary, is always on his best behaviour.
The metaphysics of Plotinus begins with a Holy Trinity: The
One, Spirit and Soul. These three are not equal, like the Persons
of the Christian Trinity; the One is supreme, Spirit conies next,
and Soul last.1

The One is somewhat shadowy. It is sometimes called God,
sometimes the Good ; it transcends Being, which is the first sequent
upon the One. We must not attribute predicates to it, but only
say "It is." (This is reminiscent of Parmenides.) It would be a
mistake to speak of God as "the All," because God transcends
the All. God is present through all things. The One can be present
without any coming: ** while it is nowhere, nowhere is it not."
Although the One is sometimes spoken of as the Good, we arc-
also told that it precedes both the Good and the Beautiful.*
Sometimes, the One appears to resemble Aristotle's God; we arc
told that God has no need of His derivatives, and ignores the
created world. The One is indefinable, and in regard to it there
is more truth in silence than in any words whatever.

We now come to the Second Person, whom Plotinus calls nous.
It is always difficult to find an English word to represent nous.
The standard dictionary translation is "mind," but this does not
have the correct connotations, particularly when the word is used
in a religious philosophy. If we were to say that Plotinus put
mind above soul, we should give a completely wrong impression.
McKenna, the translator of Plotinus, uses "Intellectual-Principle/'
but this is awkward, and does not suggest an object suitable for
religious veneration. Dean Inge uses "Spirit," which is perhaps

1 Origen, who waa a contemporary of Plotinus and had the tame teacher
to philosophy, taught that the Fiitt Pcnon waa auperior to the Second,
and the Second to the Third, agreeing in (hit with Plotinua. But
view wa* aubaequently declared heretical.

1 Ftfth Ermtad, Fifth Tractate, chap. 12.

3'*

PLOTINUS

the best word available. But it leaves out the intellectual element
which was important in all Greek religious philosophy after
Pythagoras. Mathematics, the world of ideas, and all thought
about what is not sensible, have, for Pythagoras, Plato, and
Plotinus, something divine; they constitute the activity of nous,
or at least the nearest approach to its activity that we can conceive.
It was this intellectual element in Plato's religion that led Chris-
tians—notably the author of Saint John's Gospel— to identify
Christ with the Logos. Logos should be translated "reason" in this
connection ; this prevents us from using "reason" as the translation
of nous. I shall follow Dean Inge in using "Spirit," but with the
proviso that nous has an intellectual connotation which is absent
from "Spirit" as usually understood. But often I shall use the
word nous untranslated.

Nous, we are told, is the image of the One; it is engendered
because the One, in its self-quest, has vision; this seeing is nous.
This is a difficult conception. A Being without parts, Plotinus says,
may know itself; in this case, the seer and the seen are one. In
God, who is conceived, as by Plato, on the analogy of the sun, the
light-giver and what is lit are the same. Pursuing the analogy, nous
may be considered as the lit^ht by which the One sees itself. It is
possible for us to know the Divine Mind, which we forget through
self-will. To know the Divine Mind, we must study our own
toul when it is most god-like: we must put aside the body, and
the part of the soul that moulded the body, and "sense with
desires and impulses and every such futility"; what is then left
is an image of the Divine Intellect.

"Those divinely possessed and inspired have at least the know-
ledge that they hold some greater thing within them, though they
cannot tell what it is; from the movements that stir them and the
utterances that come from them they perceive the power, not
themselves, that moves them: in the same way, it must be, we
stand towards the Supreme when we hold nous pure; we know
the Divine Mind within, that which gives Being and all else of
that order: but we know, too, that other, know that it is none of
these, but a nobler principle than anything we know as Being;
fuller and greater; above reason, mind, and feeling; conferring
these powers, not to be confounded with them."1

Thus when we are "divinely possessed and inspired" we see not
1 Eimtad*. V, 3, 14- McKenna's translation.
3'3

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

only nous, but also the One. When we are thus in contact with the
Divine, we cannot reason or express the vision in words ; this comes
later. "At the moment of touch there is no power whatever to make
any affirmation; there is no leisure; reasoning upon the vision is
for afterwards. We may know we have had the vision when the
Soul has suddenly taken light. This light is from the Supreme and
is the Supreme; we may believe in the Presence when, like that
other God on the call of a certain man, He comes bringing light;
the light is the proof of the advent. Thus, the Soul unlit remains
without that vision; lit, it possesses what it sought. And this is
the true end set before the Soul, to take that light, to see the
Supreme by the Supreme and not by the light of any other
principle — to see the Supreme which is also the means to the
vision ; for that which illumines the Soul is that which it is to see
just as it is by the sun's own light that we see the sun.

But how is this to be accomplished ?
Cut away everything/'1

The experience of "ecstasy" (standing outside one's own body)
happened frequently to Plotinus:

Many times it has happened: Lifted out of the body into myself;
becoming external to all other things and self-encentred ; behold-
ing a marvellous beauty; then, more than ever, assured of com-
munity with the loftiest order; enacting the noblest life, acquiring
identity with the divine; stationing within It by having attained
that activity; poised above whatsoever in the Intellectual is less
than the Supreme : yet, there comes the moment of descent from
intellection to reasoning, and after that sojourn in the divine, I ask
myself how it happens that I can now be descending, and how did
the Soul ever enter into my body, the Soul which even within the
body, is the high thing it has shown itself to be.1

This brings us to Soul, the third and lowest member of the
Trinity. Soul, though inferior to nous, is the author of all living
things; it made the sun and moon and stars, and the whole visible
world. It is the offspring of the Divine Intellect. It is double:
there is an inner soul, intent on nous, and another, which faces
the external. The latter is associated with a downward movement,
in which the Soul generates its image, which is Nature and the
world of sense. The Stoics had identified Nature with God, but

1 Eimtadt, V, 3, 17. 2 IV, 8, i

3'4

PLOTINU8

Plotinus regards it as the lowest sphere, something emanating
from the Soul when it forgets to look upward towards nous.
This might suggest the Gnostic view that the visible world is evil,
but Plotinus does not take this view. The visible world is beautiful,
and is the abode of blessed spirits; it is only less good than the
intellectual world. In a very interesting controversial discussion
of the Gnostic view, that the cosmos and its Creator are evil, he
admits that some parts of Gnostic doctrine, such as the hatred of
matter, may be due to Plato, but holds that the other parts, which
do not come from Plato, are untrue.

His objections to Gnosticism are of two sorts. On the one hand,
he says that Soul, when it creates the material world, does so from
memory of the divine, and not because it is fallen; the world of
sense, he thinks, is as good as a sensible world can be. He feels
strongly the beauty of things perceived by the senses:

Who that truly perceives the harmony of the Intellectual
Realm could fail, if he has any bent towards music, to answer to
the harmony in sensible sounds? What geometrician or arith-
metician could fail to take pleasure in the symmetries, corre-
spondences and principles of order observed in visible things?
Consider, even, the case of pictures : those seeing by the bodily
sense the productions of the art of painting do not see the one
thing in the one only way ; they are deeply stirred by recognizing
in the objects depicted to the eyes the presentation of what lies
in the idea, and so are called to recollection of the truth — the
very experience out of which Love rises. Now, if the sight of
Beauty excellently reproduced upon a face hurries the mind to
that other Sphere, surely no one seeing the loveliness lavish in
the world of sense — this vast orderliness, the form which the stars
even in their remoteness display, no one could be so dull-witted,
so immoveable, as not to be carried by all this to recollection,
and gripped by reverent awe in the thought of all this, so great,
sprung from that greatness. Not to answer thus could only be to
have neither fathomed this world nor had any vision of that
other (II, 9, 16).

There is another reason for rejecting the Gnostic view. The
Gnostics think that nothing divine is associated with the sun,
moon, and stars; they were created by an evil spirit. Only the soul
of man, among things perceived, has any goodness. But Plotinus
is firmly persuaded that the heavenly bodies are the bodies of

315

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

god-like beings, immeasurably superior to man. According to the
Gnostics, "their own soul, the soul of the least of mankind, they
declare deathless, divine; but the entire heavens and the stars
within the heavens have had no communion with the Immortal
Principle, though these are far purer and lovelier than their own
souls" (II, 9, 5). For the view of Plotinus there is authority in
the Timaeus, and it was adopted by some Christian Fathers, for
instance, Origen. It is imaginatively attractive; it expresses
feelings that the heavenly bodies naturally inspire, and makes
man less lonely in the physical universe.

There is in the mysticism of Plotinus nothing morose or hostile
to beauty. But he is the last religious teacher, for many centuries,
of whom this can be said. Beauty, and all the pleasures associated
with it, came to be thought to be of the Devil ; pagans, as well as
Christians, came to glorify ugliness and dirt. Julian the Apostate,
like contemporary orthodox saints, boasted of the populousness
of liis beard. Of all this, there is nothing in Plotinus.

Matter is created by Soul, and has no independent reality.
Every Soul has its hour; when that strikes, it descends, and enters
the body suitable to it. The motive is not reason, but something
more analogous to sexual desire. When the soul leaves the body,
it must enter another body if it has been sinful, for justice requires
that it should be punished. If, in this life, you have murdered
your mother, you will, in the next life, be a woman, and be
murdered by your son (HI, 2, 13). Sin must be punished; but the
punishment happens naturally, through the restless driving of the
sinner's errors.

Do we remember this life after we are dead ? The answer is per-
fectly logical, but not what most modem theologians would say.
Memory is concerned with our life in time, whereas our best and
truest life is in eternity. Therefore, as the soul grows towards
eternal life, it mil remember less and less; friends, children, wife,
will be gradually forgotten; ultimately, we shall know nothing of
the things of this world, but only contemplate the intellectual
realm. There will be no memory of personality, which, in con-
templative vision, is unaware of itself. The soul will become one
with nous, but not to its own destruction : nous and the individual
soul will be simultaneously two and one (IV, 4, 2).

In the Fourth Emend, which is on the Soul, one section, the
Seventh Tractate, is devoted to the discussion of immortality.

116

PLOTINUS

The body, being compound, is clearly not immortal; if, then,
it is part of us, we are not wholly immortal. But what is the relation
of the soul to the body ? Aristotle (who is not mentioned explicitly)
said the soul was the form of the body, but Plotinus rejects this
view, on the ground that the intellectual act would be impossible
if the soul were any form of body. The Stoics think that the soul
is material, but the unity of the soul proves that this is impossible.
Moreover, since matter is passive, it cannot have created itself;
matter could not exist if soul had not created it, and, if soul did
not exist, matter would disappear in a twinkling. The soul is
neither matter nor the form of a material body, but Essence, and
Essence is eternal. This view is implicit in Plato's argument that
the soul is immortal because ideas arc eternal ; but it is only with
Plotinus that it becomes explicit.

How does the soul enter the body from the aloofness of the
intellectual world ? The answer is, through appetite. But appetite,
though sometimes ignoble, may be comparatively noble. At best,
the soul "has the desire of elaborating order on the model of
what it has seen in the Intellectual-Principle (nous).99 That is to
say, soul contemplates the inward realm of essence, and wishes
to produce something, as like it as possible, that can be seen by
looking without instead of looking within — like (we might say) a
composer who first imagines his music, and then wishes to hear it
performed by an orchestra.

But this desire of the soul to create has unfortunate results. So
long as the soul lives in the pure world of essence, it is not separated
from other souls living in the same world ; but as soon as it becomes
joined to a body, it has the task of governing what is lower than
itself, and by this task it becomes separate from other souls, which
have other bodies. Except in a few men at a few moments, the
soul becomes chained to the body. "The body obscures the truth,
but there1 all stands out clear and separate11 (IV, 9, 5).

This doctrine, like Plato's, has difficulty in avoiding the view
that the creation was a mistake. The soul at its best is content
with nous, the world of essence ; if it were always at its best, it
would not create, but only contemplate. It seems that the act of

4 Plotinus habitually uses "There" as a Christian might — as it is used,
for instance, in

The life that knows no ending,
The tearless life is There.

317

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

creation is to be excused on the ground that the created world,
in its main lines, is the best that is logically possible; but this is
a copy of the eternal world, and as such has the beauty that is
possible to a copy. The most definite statement is in the Tractate
on the Gnostics (II, 9, 8):

To ask why the Soul has created the Kosmos, is to ask why there
is a Soul and why a Creator creates. The question, also, implies a
beginning in the eternal and, further, represents creation as the act
of a changeful Being who turns from this to that.

Those that think so must be instructed — if they would but bear
with correction — in the nature of the Supernals, and brought to
desist from that blasphemy of majestic powers which comes so
easily to them, where all should be reverent scruple.

Even in the administration of the Universe there is no ground
for such attack, for it affords manifest proof of the greatness of
the Intellectual Kind.

This All that has emerged into life is no amorphous structure —
like those lesser forms within it which are born night and day out
of the lavishness of its vitality — the Universe is a life organised,
effective, complex, all-comprehensive, displaying an unfathomable
wisdom. How, then, can anyone deny that it is a clear image, beau-
tifully formed, of the Intellectual Divinities ? No doubt it is a copy,
not original ; but that is its very nature ; it cannot be at once symbol
and reality. But to say that it is an inadequate copy is false ; nothing
has been left out which a beautiful representation within the physi-
cal order could include.

Such a reproduction there must necessarily be — though not by
deliberation and contrivance — for the Intellectual could not be the
last of things, but must have a double Act, one within itself, and
one outgoing; there must, then, be something later than the
Divine; for only the thing with which all power ends fails to pass
downwards something of itself.

This is perhaps the best answer to the Gnostics that the prin-
ciples of Plotinus make possible. The problem, in slightly different
language, was inherited by Christian theologians ; they, also, have
found it difficult to account for the creation without allowing the
blasphemous conclusion that, before it, something was lacking
to the Creator. Indeed, their difficulty is greater than that of
Plotinus, for he may say that the nature of Mind made creation
inevitable, whereas, for the Christian, the world resulted from the
untrammelled exercise of God's free will

PLCtlNUS

Plotinus has a very vivid sense of a certain kind of abstract
beauty. In describing the position of Intellect as intermediate
between the One and Soul, he suddenly bursts out into a passage
of rare eloquence:

The Supreme in its progress could never be borne forward upon
some soulless vehicle nor even directly upon the Soul: it will be
heralded by some ineffable beauty: before the Great King in his
progress there comes first the minor train, th£n rank by rank the
greater and more exalted, closer to the King the kinglier; next his
own honoured company until, last among all these grandeurs,
suddenly appears the Supreme Monarch himself, and all — unless
indeed for those who have contented themselves with the spectacle
before his coming and gone away — prostrate themselves and hail
him (V, 5, 3).

There is a Tractate on Intellectual Beauty, which shows the
same kind of feeling (V, 8):

Assuredly all the gods are august and beautiful in a beauty
beyond our speech. And what makes them so? Intellect; and
especially Intellect operating within them (the divine sun and
stars) to visibility. . . .

To "live at ease" is There; and to these divine beings verity is
mother and nurse, existence and sustenance; all that is not of
process but of authentic being they see, and themselves in all; for
all is transparent, nothing dark, nothing resistant; every being is
lucid to every other, in breadth and depth; light runs through
light. And each of them contains all within itself, and at the same
time sees all in every other, so that everywhere there is all, and all
is all and each all, and infinite the glory. Each of them is great;
the small is great ; the sun, There, is all the stars ; and every star,
again, is all the stars and sun. While some manner of being is
dominant in each, all are mirrored in every other.

In addition to the imperfection which the world inevitably
possesses because it is a copy, there is, for Plotinus as for the
Christians, the more positive evil that results from sin. Sin is a
consequence of free will, which Plotinus upholds as against the
determinists, and, more particularly, the astrologers. He does not
venture to deny the validity of astrology altogether, but he attempts
to set bounds to it, BO as to make what remains compatible with
free will. He does the same as regards magic; the sage, he says, is
exempt from the power of the magician. Porphyry relates that a

3*9

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

rival philosopher tried to put evil spells on Plotinus, but that'
because of his holiness and wisdom, the spells recoiled on the
rival. Porphyry, and all the followers of Plotinus, are much more
superstitious than he is. Superstition, in him, is as slight as was
possible in that age.

Let us now endeavour to sum up the merits and defects of the
doctrine taught by Plotinus, and in the main accepted by Christian
theology so long as, it remained systematic and intellectual.

There is, first and foremost, the construction of what Plotinus
believed to be a secure refuge for ideals and hopes, and one, more-
over, which involved both moral and intellectual effort. In the
third century, and in the centuries after the barbarian invasion,
western civilization came near to total destruction. It was fortunate
that, while theology was almost the sole surviving mental activity,
the system that was accepted was not purely superstitious, but
preserved, though sometimes deeply buried, doctrines which
embodied much of the work of Greek intellect and much of the
moral devotion that is common to the Stoics and the Neoplatonists.
This made possible the rise of the scholastic philosophy, and later,
with the Renaissance, the stimulus derived from the renewed
study of Plato, and thence of the other ancients.

On the other hand, the philosophy of Plotinus has the defect
of encouraging men to look within rather than to look without :
when we look within we see nous, which is divine, while when we
look without we see the imperfections of the sensible world. This
kind of subjectivity was a gradual growth ; it is to be found in the
doctrines of Protagoras, Socrates, and Plato, as well as in the
Stoics and Epicureans. But at first it was only doctrinal, not
temperamental ; for a long time it failed to kill scientific curiosity.
We saw how Posidonius, about 100 B.C., travelled to Spain and
the Atlantic coast of Africa to study the tides. Gradually, however,
subjectivism invaded men's feelings as well as their doctrines.
Science was no longer cultivated, and only virtue was thought
important. Virtue, as conceived by Plato, involved all that was
then possible in the way of mental achievement; but in later
centuries it came to be thought of, increasingly, as involving only
the virtuous wiU, and not a desire to understand the physical
world or improve the world of human institutions. Christianity,
in its ethical doctrines, was not free from this defect, although in
practice belief in the importance of spreading the Christian faith

.120 *

PLOTINUS

gave a practicable object for moral activity, which was no longer
confined to the perfecting of self.

Plotinus is both an end and a beginning — an end as regards the
Greeks, a beginning as regards Christendom. To the ancient world,
weary with centuries of disappointment, exhausted by despair,
his doctrine might be acceptable, but could not be stimulating.
To the cruder barbarian world, where superabundant energy
needed to be restrained and regulated rather than stimulated,
what could penetrate in his teaching was beneficial, since the
evil to be combated was not languor but brutality. The work of
transmitting what could survive of his philosophy was performed
by the Christian philosophers of the last age of Rome.

// u/or > o/ W nt cr n l>k tttuoff h > J 2 1

Book Two CATHOLIC PHILOSOPHY

INTRODUCTION7

CATHOLIC philosophy, in the sense in which 1 shall use the
term, is that which dominated European thought from
Augustine to the Renaissance. There have been philo-
sophers, before and after this period often centuries, who belonged
to the same general school. Before Augustine there were the early
Fathers, especially Origen; after the Renaissance there are many,
•'ncluding, at the present day, all orthodox Catholic teachers of
philosophy, who adhere to some medieval system, especially that
of Thomas Aquinas. But it is only from Augustine to the Re-
naissance that the greatest philosophers of the age are concerned
in building up or perfecting the Catholic synthesis. In the Christian
centuries before Augustine, Stoics and Neoplatonists outshine the
Fathers in philosophic ability; after the Renaissance, none of the
outstanding philosophers, even among those who were orthodox
Catholics, were concerned to carry on the Scholastic or the
Augustinian tradition.

The period with which we shall be concerned in this book differs
from earlier and later times not only in philosophy, but in many
other ways. The most notable of these is the power of the Church.
The Church brought philosophic beliefs into a closer relation to
social and political circumstances than they have ever had before
or since the medieval period, which we may reckon from about
A.I). 400 to about A.D. 1400. The Church is a social institution
built upon a creed, partly philosophic, partly concerned with
sacred history. It achieved power and wealth by means of its creed.
The lay rulers, who were in frequent conflict with it, were defeated
because the great majority' of the population, including most of
the lay rulers themselves, were profoundly convinced of the truth
of the Catholic faith. There were traditions, Roman and Germanic,
against which the Church had to fight. The Roman tradition was
strongest in Italy, especially among lawyers; the German tradition
was strongest in the feudal aristocracy that arose out of the bar-
barian conquest. But for many centuries neither of these traditions

122

INTRODUCTION

proved strong enough to generate a successful opposition to the
Church ; and this was largely due to the fact that they were not
embodied in any adequate philosophy.

A history of thought, such as that upon which we are engaged,
is unavoidably one-sided in dealing with the Middle Ages. With
very few exceptions, all the men of this period who contributed
to the intellectual life of their time were churchmen. The laity
in the Middle Ages slowly built up a vigorous political and
economic system, but their activities were in a sense blind. There
was in the later Middle Ages an important lay literature, very
different from that of the Church ; in a general history, this litera-
ture would demand more consideration than is called for in a
history of philosophic thought. It is not until we come to Dante
that we find a layman writing with full knowledge of the ecclesi-
astical philosophy of his time. Until the fourteenth century,
ecclesiastics have a virtual monopoly of philosophy, and philo-
sophy, accordingly, is written from the standpoint of the Church.
For this reason, medieval thought cannot be made intelligible
without a fairly extensive account of the growth of ecclesiastical
institutions, and especially of the papacy.

The medieval world, as contrasted with the world of antiquity,
is characterized by various forms of dualism. There is the dualisr
of clergy and laity, the dualism of Latin and Teuton, the duali'
of the kingdom of God and the kingdoms of this world, the c*
ism of the spirit and the flesh. All these are exemplified '
dualism of Pope and Emperor. The dualism of Latin and
an outcome of the barbarian invasion, but the others
sources. The relations of clergy and laity, for the
were to be modelled on the relations of Samuel and
demand for the supremacy of the clergy arose out
of Arian or semi-Arian emperors and kings. The d
kingdom of God and the kingdoms of this world i*
New Testament, but was systematized in Saint £ t^c dark
of God. The dualism of the spirit and the flesh ' ctivity was
Plato, and was emphasized by the Neoplatoni?* «me to the
in the teaching of St. Paul; and it domir^nstan
asceticism of the fourth and fifth centuries.

Catholic philosophy is divided into
ages, during which, in Western Europe,
almost non-existent. From the

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

wars of Byzantines and Lombards destroyed most of what re-
mained of the civilization of Italy. The Arabs conquered most of
the territory of the Eastern Empire, established themselves in
Africa and Spain, threatened France, and even, on one occasion,
sacked Rome. The Danes and Normans caused havoc in France
and England, in Sicily and Southern Italy. Life, throughout these
centuries, was precarious and full of hardship. Bad as it was in
reality, gloomy superstitions made it even worse. It was thought
that the great majority even of Christians would go to hell. At
every moment, men felt themselves encompassed by evil spirits,
and exposed to the machinations of sorcerers and witches. No joy
of life was possible, except, in fortunate moments, to those who
retained the thoughtlessness of children. The general misery
heightened the intensity of religious feeling. The life of the good
here below was a pilgrimage to the heavenly city; nothing of value
was possible in the sublunary world except the steadfast virtue
that would lead, in the end, to eternal bliss. The Greeks, in their
great days, had found joy and beauty in the everyday world.
Empedocles, apostrophizing his fellow-citizens, says: " Friends,
that inhabit the great city looking down on the yellow rock of
Acragas, up by the citadel, busy in goodly works, harbour of
honour for the stranger, men unskilled in meanness, all hail." In
later times, until the Renaissance, men had no such simple happi-
ness in the visible world, but turned their hopes to the ur-*>' °J
Acragas is replaced in their love by Jerusalem the Golden. lts t"e
earthly happiness at last returned, the intensity of longin-nten;sts
other world grew gradually less. Men used the same \f*"e
with a less profound sincerity. *°;

In the attempt to make the genesis and significance stian reve'
philosophy intelligible, I have found it necessary to challenged
space to general history than is demanded in connects- °* systems
ancient or modern philosophy. Catholic philoy^^' *n the *on8
the philosophy of an institution, namel— ""stake, but in the
modern philosophy, even when it r-**v;Cess*u*'
concerned with problems, espec*8' which had an air of complete-
which are derived from Christ :J bX a vanety of cause8- Perhaps
Catholic doctrines as to thtV2* thc 8rowth of a rich commercial
Graeco-Ror/*n paganism tl Hewhene. The feudal aristocracy, in
Christian, from the very begi' *tuPld- and barbaric; the common
or, in political terms, to Chur^rch M superior to the nobles in

3*4

INTRODUCTION

The problems raised by this dual loyalty were, for the most
part, worked out in practice before the philosophers supplied the
necessary theory. In this process there were two very distinct
stages: one before the fall of the Western Empire, and one after
it. The practice of a long line of bishops, culminating in St.
Ambrose, supplied the basis for St. Augustine's political philo-
sophy. Then came the barbarian invasion, followed by a long time
of confusion and increasing ignorance. Between Boethius and
St. Anselm, a period of over five centuries, there is only one
eminent philosopher, John the Scot, and he, as an Irishman, had
largely escaped the various processes that were moulding the rest
of the Western world. But this period, in spite of the absence of
philosophers, was not one during which there was no intellectual
development. Chaos raised urgent practical problems, which were
dealt with by means of institutions and modes of thought that
dominated scholastic philosophy, and are, to a great extent, still
important at the present day. These institutions and modes of
thought were not introduced to the world by theorists, but by
practical men in the stress of conflict. The moral reform of the
Church in the eleventh century, which was the immediate prelude
to the scholastic philosophy, was a reaction against the increasing
absorption of the Church into the feudal system. To understand
the scholastics we must understand Hil deb rand, and to understand
1 ^Mebrand we must know something of the evils against which

.. Attended. Nor can we ignore the foundation of the Holy
mediex .**•,. & T- ^ i_

. , Empire and its effect upon European thought.

Su- ! * i^Js*5 reasons, the reader will find in the following pages
this svntfiC . • , , •• - t • • f i - . i •

rf „ * |piastical and political history of which the relevance to
1 he moi f . ., , . , i , . ,. ,

,|ment of philosophic thought may not be immediately

I . I is the more necessary to relate something of this
only rendcf . . . . . J . , . f & ...

Tl h period concerned is obscure, and is unfamiliar to

\ «. . *^*« nt home with both ancient and modern history,
out western huru> . . , , , . ~ , ••

, . . : - ^phers have had as much influence on philo-

when the general level c. , ~» , , .T<1 , ' r ,

i 11 j • ^t. r L %hrose, Charlemagne, and Hiidebrand.
lull during the fourth century, . ' . / , 6 ' , , . .
»u \\r * r • i *u * uninfe these men and their times
the Western Empire and the estab T r

. . f * . rr, ,;v adequate treatment of our

out its former territory. The culm. ^

late Roman civilization depended,
condition of destitute refugees; the
their rural estates. Fresh shocks cor
without any sufficient breathing $rt

125 ]

Part i . — The Fathers

Chapter I

THE RELIGIOUS DEVELOPMENT
OF THE JEWS

^ | -1HE Christian religion, as it was handed over by the late

I Roman Empire to the barbarians, consisted of three ele-

JL ments: first, certain philosophical beliefs, derived mainly

from Plato and the Neoplatonists, but also in part from the Stoics;

second, a conception of morals and history derived from the Jews ;

and third, certain theories, more especially as to salvation, which

were on the whole new in Christianity, though in part traceable

to Orphism, and to kindred cults of the Near East.
The most important Jewish elements in Christianity appear to

me to be the following:

1. A sacred history, beginning with the Creation, leading to a
consummation in the future, and justifying the ways of Q .

man' i . f f , *** the unseen.

2. The existence of a small section of man*e Q^J^ When

specially loves. For Jews, this section was the. of , . for thc
Christians, the elect. uged tf£ Mme* V0rd8> but

3. A new conception of nghteoi

giving, for example, was taken o^ and significance Of Catholic
Judaism. The importance attache^ h nec lo ^.otc more

from Orphism or from onentemanded in ^^n ^th cithcr
practical philanthropy, as a/h Catholjc hilocjphy is essentially
of virtue, seems to have coftution> MIW>V thc Catholic Church;

4. The Law. Chnstiami^jj ;, IS tar from orthodox, is largely
instance the Decalogue, wL^feUy in ethics and political theory
ritual parts. But in practice ^,an views of the moral law and froin
same feelings that the Jew* relations of Church and State. In
the doctrine that correct beliere is no such dual loyalty as the
action, a doctrine which is esnning, has owed to God and Caesar,
origin is the exclusiveness of -h and State.

THE RELIGIOUS DEVELOPMENT OP THE JEWS

5. The Messiah. The Jews believed that the Messiah would
bring them temporal prosperity, and victory over their enemies
here on earth ; moreover, he remained in the future. For Christians,
the Messiah was the historical Jesus, who was also identified with
the Logos of Greek philosophy; and it was not on earth, but in
heaven, that the Messiah was to enable his followers to triumph
over their enemies.

6. The Kingdom of Heaven. Other-worldliness is a conception
which Jews and Christians, in a sense, share with later Platonism,
but it takes, with them, a much more concrete form than with
(I reek philosophers. The Greek doctrine — which is to be found
in much Christian philosophy, but not in popular Christianity —
was that the sensible world, in space and time, is an illusion, and
that, by intellectual and moral discipline, a man can learn to live
in the eternal world, which alone is real. The Jewish and Christian
doctrine, on the other hand, conceived the Other World as not
metaphysically different from this world, but as in the future, when
the virtuous would enjoy everlasting bliss and the wicked would
suffer everlasting torment. This belief embodied revenge psy-
chology, and was intelligible to all and sundry, as the doctrines
of Greek philosophers were not.

'ro understand the origin of these beliefs, we must take account

..-.. . '" facts in Jewish history, to which we will now turn our
Hildebranu

he contended. , ^ of lhe Israciites ^^^ be confirmed from any
Roman Lmpire an>v,,d Testament, and it is impossible to know at
tor these reasons, * - . urelv legendary. David and Solomon
much ecclesiastical and polit ' bablv had a real existence, but
the development .of ph.losophi, w CQme to somethi ^^
evident. It is the more nect ki doms of Israe, and Judah.
history as the period concerned . Q,d Testamem of whom there
many who are at home with both « of Ittac, who u ken
I-ew technical philosophers have had a A^yrf^ finally conquered
sopluc thought as St. Ambrose, Cha;nd remoyed . rf

lo relate what is essential concerning dom of Judah a,one
is therefore indispensable in any ition. The kingdom of Judah
8U 'ec ' ower came to an end with the

.lians and Medes in 606 B.C.
aptured Jerusalem, destroyed
t of the population to Babylon.

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

The Babylonian kingdom fell in 538 B.C., when Babylon was taken
by Cyrus, king of the Medes and Persians. Cyrus, in 537 B.C.,
issued an edict allowing the Jews to return to Palestine. Many of
them did so, under the leadership of Nehemiah and Ezra; die
Temple was rebuilt, and Jewish orthodoxy began to be crystallized.

In the period of the captivity, and for some time before and
after this period, Jewish religion went through a very important
development. Originally, there appears to have been not very
much difference, from a religious point of view, between the
Israelites and surrounding tribes. Yahweh was, at first, only a
tribal god who favoured the children of Israel, but it was not
denied that there were other gods, and their worship was habitual.
When the first Commandment says "Thou shall have none other
gods but me," it is saying something which was an innovation
in the time immediately preceding the captivity. This is made
evident by various texts in the earlier prophets. It was the
prophets at this time who first taught that the worship of heathen
gods was sin. To win the victory in the constant wars of that time,
they proclaimed, the favour of Yahweh was essential ; and Yahweh
would withdraw his favour if other gods were also honoured.
Jeremiah and Ezekiel, especially, seem to have invented the idea
that all religions except one are false, and that the Lord punishes
idolatry.

Some quotations will illustrate their teachings, and the pre-
valence of the heathen practices against which they protested.
"Seest Thou not what they do in the cities of Judah and in the
streets of Jerusalem? The children gather wood, and the fathers
kindle the fire, and the women knead their dough, to make cakes
to the queen of heaven [Ishtar], and pour out drink offerings unto
other gods, that they may provoke me to anger."1 The Ix>rd is
angry about it. "And they have built the high places of Tophct,
which is in the valley of the son of Hinnom, to burn their sons
and their daughters in the fire; which I commanded them not,
neither came it into my heart."2

There is a very interesting passage in Jeremiah in which he
denounces the Jews in Kgypt for their idolatry. He himself had
lived among them for a time. The prophet tells the Jewish refugees
in Egypt that Yahweh will destroy them all because their wives
have burnt incense to other gods. But they refuse to listen to him,

1 Jeremiah vii, 17-18. * Jbid.t vii, 31.

330

THE RELIGIOUS DEVELOPMENT OF THE JEWS

saying: "We will certainly do whatsoever thing goeth forth out
of our own mouth, to burn incense unto the queen of heaven, and
to pour out drink offerings unto her, as we have done, we and our
fathers, our kings and our princes, in the cities of Judah, and in
the streets of Jerusalem ; for then had we plenty of victuals, and
were well, and saw no evil." But Jeremiah assures them that
Yahweh noticed these idolatrous practices, and that misfortune
has come because of them. "Behold, I have sworn by my great
name, saith the Lord, that my name shall no more be named in
the mouth of any man of Judah in all the land of Egypt. . . .
I will watch over them for evil, and not for good; and all the
men of Judah that are in the land of Egypt shall be consumed by
the sword and by the famine, until there be an end of them."1

Iv/ckiel is equally shocked by the idolatrous practices of the
Jews. The Ix>rd in a vision shows him women at the north gate of
the temple weeping for Tammuz (a Babylonian deity); then He
shows him "greater abominations," five and twenty men at the
door of the temple worshipping the sun. The Lord declares:
"Therefore will I also deal in fury: mine eye shall not spare,
neither will I have pity: and though they cry in mine ears with a
loud voice, yet will I not hear them."2

The idea that all religions but one are wicked, and that the
Lord punishes idolatry, was apparently invented by these prophets.
The prophets, on the whole, were fiercely nationalistic, and looked
forward to the day when the Ix>rd would utterly destroy the
gentiles.

The captivity was taken to justify the denunciations of the
prophets. If Yahweh was all-powerful, and the Jews were his
Chosen People, their sufferings could only be explained by their
wickedness. The psychology is that of paternal correction: the
Jews are to be purified by punishment. Under the influence of this
belief, they developed, in exile, an orthodoxy much more rigid and
much more nationally exclusive than that which had prevailed while
they were independent. The Jews who remained behind and were
not transplanted to Babylon did not undergo this development
to anything like the same extent. When Ezra and Nehemiah came
back to Jerusalem after the captivity, they were shocked to find
that mixed marriages had been common, and they dissolved all
such marriages.3

1 Jeremiah xliv, ii-cnd. ' Kzckiel vii, ii-cnd. * Ezra ix-x, 5.

33'

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

in our version of the Apocrypha. The morality taught is very
mundane. Reputation among neighbours is highly prized. Honesty
is the best policy, because it is useful to have Yahweh on your
side. Almsgiving is recommended. The only sign of Greek influence
is in the praise of medicine.

Slaves must not be treated too kindly. "Fodder, a wand, and
burdens, are for the ass: and bread, correction, and work, for a
servant. ... Set him to work, as is fit for him: if he be not
obedient, put on more heavy fetters"(xxiii, 24, 28). At the same
time, remember that you have paid a price for him, and that if
he runs away you will lose your money; this sets a limit to pro-
fitable severity (ibid., 30, 31). Daughters are a great source of
anxiety; apparently in the writer's day they were much addicted to
immorality (xlii, 9-11). He has a low opinion of women: "From
garments cometh a moth, and from women wickedness" (ibid., 13).
It is a mistake to be cheerful with your children ; the right course
is to "bow down their neck from their youth" (vii. 23, 24).

Altogether, like the elder Cato, he represents the morality of
the virtuous business man in a very unattractive li^ht.

This tranquil existence ot comfortable self-righteousness was
rudely interrupted by the Scleucid king Amiochus IV, who was
determined to hellenize all his dominions. In 175 B.C. he estab-
lished a gymnasium in Jerusalem, and taught young men to ucar
Greek hats and practise athletics. In this he was helped by a
hellenizing Jew named Jason, whom he made high priest. The
priestly aristocracy had become lax, and had felt the attraction
of Greek civilization; but they were vehemently opposed by a
party called the "Hasidim" (meaning "Holy"), who were strong
among the rural population.1 When, in 170 B.C., Antiochus
became Involved in war with ligypt, the Jews rebelled. Thereupon
Antiochus took the holy vessels from the Temple, and placed in
it the image of the God. He identified Yahweh with Zeus,
following a practice \\hich had been successful ever)' where else.*
He resolved to extirpate the Jewish religion, and to stop circum-

1 From them, probably, dc \eloped the sect of the Kssenes, whose
doctrines seem to have influenced primitive Christianity. Sec Ocstcrlcy
and Robinson, Ilutury of Israel, Vol. II, p. 323 II. The Pharisee* also
descended from them.

9 Some Alexandrian Jew* did not object to this identification. See
Letter uf Aris teas t 15, 16.

334

THE RELIGIOUS DEVELOPMENT OF THE JEWS

cision and the observance of the laws relating to food. To all this
Jerusalem submitted, but outside Jerusalem the Jews resisted
with the utmost stubbornness.

The history of this period is told in the First Book of Maccabees.
The first chapter tells how Antiochus decreed that all the in-
habitants of his kingdom should be one people, and abandon their
separate laws. All the heathen obeyed, and many of the Israelites,
although the king commanded that they should profane the
sabbath, sacrifice swine's flesh, and leave their children uncir-
cumcised. All who disobeyed were to suffer death. Many, neverthe-
less, resisted. "They put to death certain women, that had caused
their children to be circumcised. And they hanged the infants
about their necks, and rifled their houses, and slew them that had
circumcised them. Howbeit many in Israel were fully resolved
and confirmed in themselves not to eat any unclean thing. Where-
fore they chose rather to die, that they might not be defiled with
meats, and that they might not profane the holy covenant: so then
they died."1

It was at this time that the doctrine of immortality came to be
widely believed among the Jews. It had been thought that virtue
would be rewarded here on earth; but persecution, which fell
upon the most virtuous, made it evident that this was not the case.
In order to safeguard divine justice, therefore, it was necessary
to believe in rewards and punishments hereafter. This doctrine
was not universally accepted among the Jews; in the time of
Christ, the Sadducees still rejected it. But by that time they
were a small party, and in later times all Jews believed in immor-
tality.

The revolt against Antiochus was led by Judas Maccabaeus, an
able military commander, who first recaptured Jerusalem (164 B.C.),
and then embarked upon aggression. Sometimes he killed all the
males, sometimes he circumcised them by force. His brother
Jonathan was made high priest, was allowed to occupy Jerusalem
with a garrison, and conquered part of Samaria, acquiring Joppa
and Akra. He negotiated with Rome, and was successful in securing
complete autonomy. His family were high priests until Herod,
and are known as the I lasmonean dynasts.

In enduring and resisting persecution the Jews of this time
showed immense heroism, although in defence of things that do
1 I Maccabees i, 60-3.

335

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

The New Testament writers are familiar with it; St. Jude con-
siders it to be actually by Enoch. Early Christian Fathers, for
instance Clement of Alexandria and Tertullian, treated it as
canonical, but Jerome and Augustine rejected it. It fell, conse-
quently, into oblivion, and was lost until, early in the nineteenth
century, three manuscripts of it, in Ethiopic, were found in
Abyssinia. Since then, manuscripts of parts of it have been found
in Greek and Latin versions. It appears to have been originally
written partly in Hebrew, partly in Aramaic. Its authors were
members of the Hasidim, and their successors the Pharisees. It
denounces kings and princes, meaning the Hasmonean dynasty
and the Sadducees. It influenced New Testament doctrine,
particularly as regards the Messiah, Sheol (hell), and demonology.

The book consists mainly of "parables," which are more cosmic
than those of the New Testament. There are visions of heaven
and hell, of the Last Judgment, and so on ; one is reminded of the
first two Books of Paradise Lost where the literary quality is good,
and of Blake's Prophetic Books where it is inferior.

There is an expansion of Genesis vi, 2, 4, which is curious and
Promethean. The angels taught men metallurgy, and were punished
for revealing ''eternal secrets." They were also cannibals. The
angels that had sinned became pagan gods, and their women
became sirens ; but at the last, they were punished with everlajtin^
torments.

There are descriptions of heaven and hell which have consider-
able literary merit. The Last Judgipent is performed by "the Son
of Man, who hath righteousness" and who sits on the throne of
His glory. Some of the gentiles, at the last, will repent and be
forgiven; but most gentiles, and all hellenizing Jews, will suffer
eternal damnation, for the righteous will pray for vengeance, and
their prayer will be granted.

There is a section on astronomy, where we learn that the sun
and moon have chariots driven by the wind, that the year consists
of 364 days, that human sin causes the heavenly bodies to depart
from their courses, and that only the virtuous can know astronomy.
Falling stars are falling angels, and are punished by the seven
archangels.

Next comes sacred history. Up to the Maccabees, this pursues
the course known from the Bible in its earlier portions, and from
history in the later parts. Then the author goes on into the future:

338

THE RELIGIOUS DEVELOPMENT OF THE JEWS

the New Jerusalem, the conversion of the remnant of the gentiles,
the resurrection of the righteous, and the Messiah.

There is a great deal about the punishment of sinners and the
reward of the righteous, who never display an attitude of Christian
forgiveness towards sinners. "What will ye do, ye sinners, and
whither will ye flee on that day of judgment, when ye hear the
voice of the prayer of the righteous?" "Sin has not been sent upon
the earth, but man of himself has created it." Sins are recorded
in heaven. "Ye sinners shall be cursed for ever, and ye shall have
no peace." Sinners may be happy all their lives, and even in
dying, but their souls descend into Sheol, where they shall suffer
"darkness and chains and a burning flame." But as for the
righteous, "I and my Son will be united with them for ever."

The last words of the book are: "To the faithful he will give
faithfulness in the habitation of upright paths. And they shall see
those who were born in darkness led into darkness, while the
righteous shall be resplendent. And the sinners shall cry aloud
and see them resplendent, and they indeed will go where days and
seasons are prescribed for them."

Jews, like Christians, thought much about sin, but few of them
thought of themselves as sinners. This was, in the main, a Christian
innovation, introduced by the parable of the Pharisee and the
publican, and taucht as a virtue in Christ's denunciations of the
Scribes and Pharisees. The Christians endeavoured to practise
Christian humility; the Jews, in general, did not.

There are, however, important exceptions among orthodox Jews
just before the lime of Christ. Take, for instance, "The Testaments
ill" the Twelve Patriarchs/1 written between 109 and 107 B.C. by
a Pharisee who admired John Hyrcanus, a high priest of the
Ihusmonean dynasty. This book, in the form in which we have it,
contains Christian interpolations, but these are all concerned with
dogma. When they are excised, the ethical teaching remains closely
similar to that of the ( jnspels. As the Rev. Dr. R. H. Charles says:
"The Sermon on the Mount reflects in several instances the spirit
and even reproduces the very phrases of our text: many passages
in tlir (iospcls exhibit traces of the same, and St. Paul seems to
have used the book as a vade mecuin" (op. «'/., pp. 291-2). We
lind in this hook such preempts as the following:

"Love ye one another from the heart; and if a man sin against
thec, speak peaceably to him, and in thy soul hold not guile; and

339

WESTERN PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

if he repent and confess, forgive him. But if he deny it, do not
get into a passion with him, lest catching the poison from thee
he take to swearing, and so then sin doubly. . . . And if he be
shameless and persist in wrong-doing, even so forgive him from
the heart, and leave to God the avenging."

Dr. Charles is of opinion that Christ must have been acquainted
with this passage. Again we find :

"Love the Lord and your neighbour."

"Love the Lord through all your life, and one another with a
true heart."

"I love the Lord; likewise also every man with all my heart."
These are to be compared with Matthew xxii, 37-39. There is a
reprobation of all hatred in "The Testaments of the Twelve
Patriarchs"; for instance:

"Anger is blindness, and docs not suffer one to see the face of
any man with truth."

"Hatred, therefore, is evil; for it constantly matcth with lying."
The author of this book, as might be expected, holds that not only
the Jews, but all the gentiles, will be saved.

Christians have learnt from the Gospels to think ill of Pharisees,
yet the author of this book was a Pharisee, and he taught, as we
have seen, those very ethical maxims which we think of as most
distinctive of Christ's preaching. The explanation, however, is
not difficult. In the first place, he must have been, even in his own
day, an exceptional Pharisee; the more usual doctrine was, no
doubt, that of the Book of Enoch. In the second place, we know
that all movements tend to ossify ; who could infer the principles
of Jefferson from those of the Daughters of the American Revo-
lution? In the third place, we know, as regards the Pharisees in
particular, that their devotion to the Law, as the absolute and
final truth, soon put an end to all fresh and living thought and
feeling among them. As Dr. Charles says:

"When Pharisaism, breaking with the ancient ideals of its party,
committed itself to political interests and movements, and con-
currently therewith surrendered itself more and more wholly to
the study of the letter of the Law, it soon ceased to offer scope for
the development of such a lofty system of ethics as the Testaments
[of the Patriarchs] attest, and so the true successors of the early
Hasids and their teaching quitted Judaism and found their natural
home in the bosom of primitive Christianity."

340

THE RELIGIOUS DEVELOPMENT OF THE JEWS

After a period of rule by the High Priests, Mark Antony made
his friend Herod King of the Jews. Herod was a gay adventurer,
often on the verge of bankruptcy, accustomed to Roman society,
and very far removed from Jewish piety. His wife was of the
family of the high priests, but he was an Idumaean, which alone
would suffice to make him an object of suspicion to the Jews. He
was a skilful time-server, and deserted Antony promptly when it
became evident that Octavius was going to be victorious. However,
he made strenuous attempts to reconcile the Jews to his rule. He
rebuilt the Temple, though in a hellenistic style, with rows of
Corinthian pillars; but he placed over the main gate a large
golden eagle, thereby infringing the second Commandment. When
it was rumoured that he was dying, the Pharisees pulled down the
eagle, but he, in revenge, caused a number of them to be put to
death. He died in 4 B.C., and soon after his death the Romans
abolished the kingship, putting Judea under a procurator. Pontius
Pilate, who became procurator in A.U. 26, was tactless, and was
soon retired.

In A.D. 66, the Jews, led by the party of the Zealots, rebelled
against Rome. They w

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